Oh My Goth!
by retroville9
Summary: Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of likeminded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They’re considered the “freaks” of their high school. But when
1. Chapter 1

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book "Oh my goth!" By: Gena Showalter.

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"**Oh My Goth!"**

_**When people look at me, they automatically assume I'm dark and weird. Why can't they see the truth? I'm just a girl, trying to find my place in the world. **_

** From the journal of Cindy Vortex**

_God_, I hate school.

I'm sitting in trig, listening (not really) to Mr. Suneson drone on and on about angles and measurements. As if _I _care. As if I'll ever use that stuff outside of this classroom.

Honestly, I'd rather be anywhere else. Even home, where my dad begins almost every conversation with, "You should lose the black clothes and wear something with color." Puh-lease. Like I _want _to look like every Barbie clone in Hell High a.k.a. Retroville's insignificant Retroville High School. Ironically, Dad doesn't appreciate the bright blue streaks in my originally blonde/now-dyed-black hair. Go figure. That's _color_, right?

With my elbows resting on my desktop, I dropped my forehead into my upraised palms and closed my eyes. Mr. Suneson continued to blah, blah, blah (or, as he'd tell you, talk), and his superior, I-know-the-answers-therefore-I-am-God voice grated against my nerves.

Was I surprised? No. He _always _talked to use like that, as if we were dumb for not already knowing how to work math equations we'd never encountered before. He even got mad when we asked questions—God forbid we actually learn, right?—and generally treated us like total dumb wits.

Fifteen minutes, thirty-seven seconds before bell. Translation: fifteen minutes, thirty-seven seconds of me wishing for an apocalyptic destruction of the universe so my misery would end.

What had I done to deserve this kind of torture? Talk back to my dad? Who didn't? Ditch a few classes? Show me one person who hasn't. Pierce my nose? Well…

"If Miss Vortex will give me the honor of her attention," Mr. Suneson snapped, "I'll explain the relation between sins and chords."

I didn't glance up, didn't want to encourage him. Really, when would this end?

"Are you paying attention, Miss Vortex, or are you praying you never come into contact with a wooden stake?"

Several students chuckled.

I still didn't bother looking up, but I _did _react to his taunt.

"No, I'm not," I gritted out.

I think the man enjoyed making fun of me more than he liked teaching. Not a single day passed without a snide comment from him: Why don't you do everyone a favor and stay home tomorrow, Miss Vortex? You're the reason I need ulcer medication, Miss Vortex. Your poor father, he must need a lot of therapy, huh, Miss Vortex.

I'd heard it _all. _

"FYI," I added, "your comment doesn't make you fright, Mr. Suneson."

"Fright…" Nick Dean snorted. "That's such a dumb word."

"Just say _cool _like the rest of us," someone else said.

I felt my cheeks heat up with embarrassment—and hated myself for letting them see any hint of upset.

Mr. Suneson tapped his foot impatiently.

"Mind sharing with us what you were doing that's more important than listening to what I have to say? If anyone in this classroom needs to learn, it's _you._"

Okay. Now, I'm officially pissed.

"If you must know, I'm thinking of less painful ways to kill myself than from your lesson. _Kevin._"

My classmates erupted with laughter, and I heard the shuffle of their seats as they turned to glance at me. They may not like me, but they always found my irreverence amusing.

Mr. Suneson glared.

"You will address me as 'Mr. Suneson' or not address me at all. You do _not _call me by my first name. Ever. I don't want someone like you even thinking it."

How's this for a math equation: the wooden stake comment plus the someone-like-you comment equals ready-to-throw-you-down Cindy Vortex. His words assured one thing: I would not allow myself to back down now.

"It is okay, then, if I call you Kevie?" I said.

I'm Goth; that doesn't make me a vampire. If I were, I would have drained Mr. Suneson a long time ago.

Honestly, I'm not evil. I liked to dabble in the magical arts (upon occasion), yes, and I dressed myself apart from the ultratraditional norm. There's nothing wrong with expressing my individuality.

"There _will _be a quiz on this information," he growled. "While I'm happy to give you a F, I'll be even happier to give you detention if you don't start paying attention."

He expected me to shake with fear over the thought of detention. If he'd said something about "extreme makeover" or "an hour of shopping with Barbie clones"…maybe. But, an hour alone with my thoughts?

Yeah, I'm quaking.

_Just keep your mouth shut Cindy, _my common sense piped in. Ignore him. _You can't afford to be in trouble again. _I looked up at last, facing him, determined (finally) to remain silent and end our battle. He wouldn't get in trouble for it, but I would. Yet, when my gaze locked with his, his too-thin lips curled in a smug smile and his green eyes glowed with triumph—as if he already had won.

"That's what I thought," he said, his voice as smug as his grin.

"Detention sounds like fun," I found myself saying, all sense of preservation annihilated by his premature smugness.

"Sign me up. I can't hardly wait to start."

His eyes narrowed to tiny slits, as his face darkened to an angry red, clashing with his white button-up shirt (no wrinkles) and brown dress slacks (again, no wrinkles). So neat. So tidy.

At one time, I bet he'd been military.

"You want detention so badly I'll sign you up for the entire week." He crossed his arms over his chest, obviously expecting me to rush out an apology. "How would you like that?"

When would he learn that I wasn't like the other kids at this school?

"Mr. Suneson," I said, studying my metallic blue nail polish as if I hadn't had a care in the world. Inside, though, I hadn't forgotten that I stood on the edge of a jagged cliff, trouble waiting for me if I fell. But I couldn't seem to help myself; I despised this man too much.

"Do you mind getting back to your lecture, so I can get back to my nap?"

Another round of laughter erupted.

"That's it!" Scowl deepening, he pounded toward me and slapped his hand against my desk, causing the metal legs to vibrate. If he didn't learn to control his stress letter, he'd burst a vessel in his forehead.

"You've been _nothing _but a nuisance for three weeks. You have the worst grades in the class—in _all _your classes, actually. I checked."

My back straightened, and my shoulders squared. How dare this "role model" discuss my grades with the entire class?

"I have an A in creative writing," I informed him staunchly.

"Well, good for you." The sarcastic edge in his voice grated against my every nerve.

"You know how to write in your native language. Woohoo. Let's all give Miss Vortex a round of applause."

More laughter (not in my favor), followed by the sound of enthusiastic handclapping and whistling. _Traitors! _I should have expected nothing less.

My eyes narrowed, and I think Mr. Suneson realized that I was about to rip into him. He slapped my desk again.

"We're done with this conversation. I've had enough of you, and I want you out." He jerked a finger toward the door.

"Get out of my classroom. Go straight to the principal's office. Do not talk to anyone. Do not stop in the bathroom."

What, should I collect two hundred dollars if I passed Go?

"Don't you need to write me a note or something?" I said, purposefully keeping my tone light. No way would I give him the "please let me stay" reaction he craved.

His nostrils flared before he stomped to his desk, scribbled something on a piece of paper, and thudded back to me. He smacked that sheet into my outstretched palm. "Out!"

"Thanks," I said, proud of myself. As my mom once said, "If you don't stand up for yourself, Cindy sweetie, no one else will. Be strong. Be brave. Be _you._"

She haduttered those words right before she died.

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**Alright, wow. That was A LOT! Please read and review everyone!**

**Thanks so much!**

'**Til next time,**

**Ashley**


	2. Chapter 2

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh my Goth!" By: Gena Showalter**.

* * *

**Okay, thanks for the reviews everyone!**

**Masta – Haha, yes they were. Thanks!**

**Stardust – Ha! Thank you so much!**

**Greg – Well, you shouldn't be. Read the message I sent you.**

**Cybercassie – Well, thank you! I'm glad you liked it!**

**Okay, ONWARDS!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

Two years ago, a distracted driver had slammed into our car, propelling us into the one in front of us. I'd been fifteen at the time, and she had been teaching me how to drive. I lost my mom that day, as well the illusion of immortality. I had almost died myself and still bore the scars on my abdomen, so I understood how short life could be. I would not allow a man like Mr. Suneson to ruin a single day of mine.

I may only be seventeen years old, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid.

That doesn't mean I'm powerless.

Mr. Suneson enjoys taking his frustrations out on his class. He spills coffee on his shirt, we get a quiz. He locks his keys in his car; we get ten pages of homework.

What's more, I (obviously) can't stand the way he talks to me, as if I'm less of a person than he is because I'm younger, because I dress differently. Should I be punished for not liking math and sucking at it? Should I be punished for dabbling in what others considered the darker side of life?

"Pick up the pace," he told me irritably. "The sooner you're gone, the sooner the rest of the class can enjoy my lesson."

I pushed my feet and adjusted the bag over my shoulder.

"I don't think you have to worry about anyone enjoying it."

The comment earned several snickers.

His teeth bared in a scowl, and he took a menacing step toward me. The man looked ready to snap, my neck, that is. A little tremble worked through me, but I quickly squashed it. If I showed any weakness, he would only use it against me in our next skirmish.

And there would be another one. There always was.

I remained in place, taking comfort in the fact that Mr. Suneson had to look up at me. I'm taller than he is by several inches, and I'm only five foot seven. I'd bet my college savings he suffers from Napoleon complex.

See, I pay attention in _some _of my classes.

"You come back in here, and you'll regret it. Do you understand me?"

"That's something I already knew, Kev, what with you and your lecturing…" Without waiting for his reply, I gave him a finger wave and headed for the door. I knew everyone was watching me leave; I felt the heat of their gazes boring into my back. In case you're wondering, yes, this has happened to me many times before.

"Freak," someone muttered as I passed.

Mr. Suneson smirked, not saying a work in rebuke. My cheeks again burned a bright red; my stomach clenched. I don't want to be one of the crowd, a clone like the rest of them, but I _do _want to be respected. I want to be accepted for who I am. No one enjoys being called horrible names.

"Moron."

"Loo-ser," I heard Betty Quinlan say.

Beautiful, wealthy, utterly popular Betty Quinlan. She glanced up from her Sidekick, probably e-mailing one of her clone friends about me, and smirked. I hate, hate, _hate_, her.

They only thing we have in common is the fact that we both only have on parent. Wait. That's not true. We have two things in common.

She hates me as much as I hate her. Mortal enemies. That was us.

With her dyed-blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect makeup and perfect clothes, Hell High's It girl. Every girl wants to be her, except me of course…GAG!

Every boy wants to date her.

I know for a fact that every boy wants to date her because she's stolen the ones _I've _wanted.

The moment a boy shows any interest in me, Betty suddenly has to have him. She's determined to ruin my life, and I don't know why.

Unless you count the time I introduced her to my fists. Over and over again.

"The world is a better place without her mom…" she'd mumbled to her friends only a few days after my mom's funeral. She hadn't meant for me to hear, but I had and I'd exploded into action, hitting and kicking her with every ounce of my strength, every ounce of rage and impotence.

I'd felt at being unable to save my mother. My friends had had to pull me off of her.

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**Well, that's another chapter for you guys.**

**PLEASE, read and review!**

**Thank you!**

'**Til next time,**

**Ashley**


	3. Chapter 3

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh my Goth!" By: Gena Showalter**.

* * *

**Wow, thanks again for the wonderful reviews!**

**Jimmy's 1 fan – Thank you!**

**Greg- Wow, are you serious? Dang! I'm flattered! I'm not as good at quiethinker though. Oh well, I tried.**

**Stardust – Hah, oh yes she is. And just wait until you see what happens in this chapter. Then you're really going to hate her.**

**Cyber – Haha! Oh yes, me too.**

**Acosta – Ha! Thank you so much!**

**Thanks again you guys!**

**Okay, STORY TIME!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

Yes, I have friends here at school. Does it shock you to hear some people actually like me? Well, it shouldn't.

They're outcasts like me. I hang with Erica, Linnie which is short for Linda, and Robb.

We eat lunch together every day and sometimes party after school. They're a lot like me, my friends.

They love the joy of expression. They hate conformity. Hate hypocrisy. Hate the rigidness of what's supposedly "proper".

More importantly, they hate the Barbies. I could have used their moral support right now.

When I stood in the hall, the door closed tight behind me, I leaned against the cool red brick. I drew in a breath. Sweet escape. Alone at last, the burn in my cheeks began to fade. I glanced over the note Mr. Suneson had written. The handwriting was almost unreadable, but I was able to make out "disrupt" and "no longer tolerate" and "expel."

I should be so lucky.

No. I sighed. Not true. Actually, I couldn't afford to be expelled. My grades weren't the best, but I was passing. If I were expelled, I would be given zeros for the missed work, and I would fail. If I failed, I wouldn't graduate and couldn't, at last, pursue my dream.

I want to be a writer.

Stupid, huh? I'd have better luck becoming a witch. My dad says only, like, one percent of writers actually get published. When I told him my dream, he looked up the statistics on the Internet, hoping to talk some sense into me. I love to write, though, and have countless notebooks and journals filled with my stories, my thoughts.

With another sigh, I pushed down the hall. Posters that read VOTE FOR BETTY littered the walls. They even had Betty's smiling, perfect picture. She wants to be student body president.

The only way I'll vote for her is if a steaming pile of dog shit is my only other choice. And even then it's iffy. If I had a marker, I would have given her pictures fangs and horns.

Well, maybe not, I decided after a moment's thought.

That would have insulted the Devil.

Thankfully the hallways were devoid of students, so I didn't have to deal with anyone. That would change in about five minutes when everyone rushed to their next class. I quickened my step, the loud _clump-clump _of my boots echoing.

When I reached the principal's office, I waved to the secretaries.

They rolled their eyes.

"Cindy, Cindy, Cindy." Cher, my favorite, tsked under her tongue. Yep, that's her name, and yes, we're on first name basis. She has curly red hair, round cheeks, countless freckles, and a plump figure.

What I liked best about her, though, was that she always wore a fancy dress and didn't care what everyone else thought. No matter the occasion, she was dressed for prom. Today she wore and emerald green puffy…thing with ruffles down the center.

"I'll let Ms. Hamilton know you're here," she said, picking up the phone. "Have a seat."

The lobby was big, separated from the offices by a long yellow counter. There were there desks and a few scattered chairs. Computers, fax machines, and phones that rang constantly. The walls were covered with red-and-black banners, our school colors.

HOME OF THE FIGHTING STALLIONS they read.

The jocks loved to refer themselves as stallions. Didn't matter.

They were a herd of idiots, in my opinion.

I turned toward the non-cushioned seats in front of Ms. Hamilton's office. Ms. Hamilton purposefully made them uncomfortable as possible, a subtle punishment meant to keep us away.

One of the chairs was already occupied—by a boy I didn't quite recognize.

A, uh, hot boy.

A _really _hot boy.

The sight of him caught me off guard, and I blinked. Gulped. Stilled. I didn't mean to, but I stared at him, my breath caught in my throat. He had dark, messy hair, a square face, and heavy-lidded blue eyes that did strange things to my stomach.

Wait a minute, I did know who this was.

This was Jimmy Neutron from back in elementary school!

He probably wouldn't have ever recognized me judging on my appearance compared to back in the day.

I have gone from a preppy bitch, to a devil-worshipping Goth.

"Hey," I said easing into my seat across from him. Then I pressed my lips together. I shouldn't have said anything. He'd probably ignore me.

He'd probably act like—

"Hey," he said with his voice deep, and a little husky. He leaned back in the chair, untouchable. Detached from me and the rest of the world.

"You, uh, new here?" I asked.

"Yeah. First day back in Retroville."

"Well, you're lucky you missed lunch. The food here sucks."

"Every school cafeteria is the same." As he spoke, he stretched out his jean-clad legs. His very _long _jean-clad legs. "Bad."

Covertly I looked him over, but I didn't see any piercings or tattoos, two things that would have placed him on my level. I frowned with disappointment.

"What's your name?" I found myself asking, already knowing what the answer was.

"Jimmy."

"Fright name." I paused. "That means I like it. I'm, uh, Cindy."

"Thanks." He gave me another of those mysterious grins, this one even slower, more lethal.

"Cindy…pretty name."

"Thank you." My gaze traveled to the piece of paper folded in his hand. "That your schedule?"

"Yeah."

A boy of few words. I kind of liked that.

"Who'd you get?" I asked.

He read the paper. "Harper, Norfield, Reynolds, Parton, Frandemier, and Carroll."

Did we have Norfield and Parton at the same time? If so, I'd be happy to tutor him after school and bring him up to speed.

But, then I remembered that Jimmy was always a genius, so, that probably wouldn't be necessary.

Jimmy sat up and leaned toward me, anchoring his elbows on his knees. He pinned me with an intense gaze.

"I overslept and missed most of the day, so haven't gotten to meet any of them. Any words of advice for me?"

I didn't have to think about it.

"Yeah. Get out of Parton's class."

He chuckled, and the husky sound of it washed over me.

"An asshole, is he?"

"You have no…"

"Jimmy," Cher called. "Your guide is here."

Immediately he stood and he turned toward the girl now filling the entrance. I looked, too.

When I saw her, I ground my teeth together.

My nails dug into my fishnets.

_**Betty.**_

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**Okay, that's a really long chapter but that's it!**

**Please read and review!**

**Thanks.**

'**Til next time,**

**Ashley**


	4. Chapter 4

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh my Goth!" By: Gena Showalter**.

* * *

**Wow, damn. Lots of freaking reviews for this chapter!**

**Jim lover – Ha, thanks!**

**Stardust – lmao, thanks!**

**Masta – Aw, thank you!**

**Anime – Wow, I'm very glad to hear that! Thanks!**

**Acosta – Wow, jeez, thanks so much!**

**Greg – Well, thanks for clearing that one up. Haha, thanks so much again Greg.**

**Beatgoeson – Will do that. For sure.**

**LipGlossRox – Wow, you're one funny person. Jeez.**

**Cybercassie - Ha, I'm glad I made your day. That brings me joy. Haha.**

**Thanks so much for the reviews you guys!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

Of course! I should have known she'd arrive the moment the words "he's hot" passed through my mind.

In her short pink skirt and white tank, she was as beautiful as ever. Her blond hair floated around her delicate shoulders.

My gaze flicked back to Jimmy, who seemed riveted by the sight of her.

Typical, and somewhat disappointing.

"You're Jimmy?" she asked in surprise. She blushed prettily and ran her bottom lip between her teeth, the picture of innocence and sweetness. She even smiled shyly.

Talk about false advertising. Betty wasn't shy, wasn't innocent, and sure as hell wasn't sweet.

Jimmy cleared his throat. "Yep, that's me." He glanced down at me for the briefest of seconds. With dismissal? "Nice to meet you, Cindy."

"Yeah," I gritted out. "You, too."

Betty finally noticed me and scowled.

"Come on," she said to Jimmy. She actually strolled to him, grabbed his arm, and tugged him beside her.

"We need to get you out of this office before you're contaminated by the trash. I'll show you to your class."

They were off, the sound of Betty's chattering voice fading.

I gripped the edge of my seat to keep from sprinting after her and reintroducing her to my fists. At this very second she was probably telling Jimmy he shouldn't associate with me, that I was a horrible person, blah, blah, blah. I shouldn't even care.

I pretty much _just _met him, and he meant nothing to me. Not anymore, not like before.

But I couldn't stop sparks of anger from spreading through my veins.

Tomorrow, Jimmy would see me in the hallway and probably turn the other way. He'd act like he had never met me, and call me a freak behind my back. Betty would smile smugly, like she always did.

I'd pretend it didn't bother me, like I always did. I would never EVER let Betty know she hurt me.

Suddenly, the principal's door burst open, claiming my attention.

I shoved my enemy and her new_ hot _target out of my mind. They weren't important.

Right?

_Right._

Wait, one last thought about Betty…

What a bitch! Okay, now I was done.

My friend Linnie sailed out of the office, her jet-black hair in spikes around her head. Ever since Libby, my old best friend, moved away, Linnie was my best friend.

Surprised to see her, I jolted to my feet. She spotted me, grinned, and skidded to a halt.

"What happened?" I asked. "Why are you here?"

"Hammy's in a wicked bad mood," she said loudly, not caring who heard.

"Hammy" is what we call Principal Hamilton. Rarely to her face, though.

"She gave me two days' vacation. Come to my house later. I'm having a party to celebrate."

Two days…crap. What would I get if Linnie, who wasn't nearly as troublesome as me, got two days? Linnie didn't mind the expulsion, I knew, because she had money. Well, her parents had money and she had it by association.

She didn't have to ever work, didn't have to attend college if she didn't want to. To her, expulsion _was _a vacation.

"What'd you do?" I asked.

She opened her mouth to answer, but Ms. Hamilton appeared in the hallway and said, "Get in here, Cindy."

My heart skipped a traitorous beat.

Linnie's brows arched. "Told you," she said. "You're in for a world of hurt, my friend, and not in a good way. Enjoy."

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**Mkay, done with that chapter! Hope you liked it!**

**Read and review!**

'**Til next time,**

**Ashley**


	5. Chapter 5

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book "Oh my Goth!" By: Gena Showalter.

* * *

**Thanks for the great reviews everyone!**

**LipGlossRox – Woah, might want to calm down a bit there dude.**

**Acosta – Eh, I don't think that would fit in right but thanks for the help.**

**Death is my cousin – Thanks very much!**

**EL CHUPACARA – Wow, thanks so much! It's such an honor to receive such a great review from a writer like you.**

**Greenday – Wow, thanks so much! I love Green Day by the way.**

**Stardust – Thank you very much!**

**Thanks again everyone!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

_**There are times I wish I were invisible. Which is silly, since I do everything I can to stand out.**_

* * *

As I trudged past, I handed Hammy the note Mr. Suneson had written.

It would have done no good to "lose" the note before reaching the office. Mr. Suneson would tattle on me, the big crybaby, and then I'd be in more trouble.

Was it possible to be in any more trouble, though?

My stomach twisted as I claimed the chair directly in front of the desk and carefully placed my bag at my ankles. I inhaled slowly, taking in the scent of lemon furniture polish and…vanilla?

It was too sweet for such a SIM-like lady.

Not yet wanting to face her, I looked around the small, cramped office. Books were scattered in every direction and antidrug posters covered the walls. A thin wooden table stretched against the far wall, folders piled along the edges, and papers spilled from the sides.

As she glanced over the note, Hammy plopped into her seat. When she'd read every word, she propped her elbows on the desks' surface and stared over at me without expression. I tamped down the urge to squirm to my seat.

I'm not sure if I like Ms. Hamilton, and I don't know why. I mean, she never yells at students. Instead, she uses a voice at monotone as a computer animation. There just doesn't seem to be any real personality to her. She's very plain and _very _old. I mean, she's like 35 or 40 with mousy brown hair, brown eyes, and thin lips.

She's the perfect candidate for _Make Your Teen Obey _magazine.

"You and Mr. Suneson clashed again, did you?" she said without giving any hint of her thoughts. But then, she never gave any hint to her thoughts.

I shrugged, hoping I appeared nonchalant.

"That's what the note says, isn't it?"

"I don't care what the note says. I want to hear what happened from you."

Right. I knew what _that _meant. She wanted me to admit I was wrong, that I'd overreacted.

Well, I wouldn't and I hadn't.

"He called me a vampire. I told him he sucked at teaching. I shouldn't be in trouble for that. I should be commended for telling the truth."

She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head.

"Do you realize that every time you and Mr. Suneson fight, you disrupt the entire class? You infringe on everyone else's right to learn."

Okay, so, score one for Hammy.

"I know," I said softly, prickles of guilt weaving with my upset. "He provokes me. Doesn't that count for something?"

"No."

My eyes narrowed. "So, it's okay for him to disrupt the class, but not me?"

"I didn't say that." She sighed.

"_He's _the adult. He should know better."

"Enough." She slapped her hand against the desk, a perfect mimic of Mr. Suneson. Such a display of anger from her surprised me.

"You've been in here six times already and the school year has barely begun. I've had you write essays. That didn't work. I've given you detention. That didn't work. What do you think I should try this time, Cindy?"

Here it was. The old "you decide your punishment." My dad liked to utilize this technique, as well. I didn't mind telling Hammy what I always told him. "Maybe you should try forgetting this ever happened."

One of her eyebrows arched, and she pursed her lips. The expression made her appear amused, exasperated, and infuriated at the same time. Huh. In five minutes I'd managed to draw more emotion out of her than I had in the two years she'd run this school combined.

Maybe she was dating.

That always put my dad in a stellar mood.

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**Okay, that's it for that chapter!**

**Read and review!**

'**Til next time,**

**Ashley**


	6. Chapter 6

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget.

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book "Oh my Goth!" By: Gena Showalter.

* * *

**Thanks again for the reviews everyone!**

**Phantomphan – Aw, thanks so much!**

**Ms.Pascal – Haha! Okay, sounds good.**

**Jenna – Ha, well that's good. Okay, I will do that.**

**Stardust – Really? Your principal? Wow, that sucks.**

**Sugar – Wow, that's an honor! Thanks so much!**

**Acosta – Brilliant, eh? Wow, thanks!**

**Cyber – Haha, wow. Just keep reading darling.**

**Okay, ONWARDS!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

"I don't think so," she said.

I shrugged. "It was worth a shot."

"Some kids are beyond redemption, but I don't feel that way about you. I think you can be salvaged."

There was a long drawn-pause as she studied my face, then said, "I'm going to take a day to think about the best course of action here. Tomorrow morning come straight to my office. Don't go to class, just come here. Understand?"

"Yeah."

And I did. I understood perfectly. Waiting to hear the final verdict was part of my punishment. Which meant, not only did today totally blow, but tomorrow would, too.

Freaking great.

* * *

Just in case Ms. Hamilton called me dad, I avoided him for the rest of the day. I didn't go home, just called the house and left a message saying I was staying the night with Erica. Which was true. After school I piled in her rust '82 Bronco and we eased out of the school parking lot, away from football practice and cheering squad parading around in the field in their short shorts.

Erica drove us to Café Giovanni, which is Italian for "young blood."

Situated dead center downtown, the café was underneath a towering redbrick building. A shadowed, winding staircase led to a small, dimly lit room that catered to the individuality I so loved.

Pictures of vampires and witches decorated the walls, some for comic relief, and others for the beauty of art. Soft, haunting music played in the background.

Loreena McKennit, I think.

Instead of traditional tables and chairs, black velvet and satin pillows were scattered across the polished wood floor.

We mostly came for the atmosphere. I mean, we were accepted here. No one ridiculed us or called us horrible names because _all _of the patrons were Goths.

Here, we were treated like equals. Here, we belonged. Here, we were able to relax and enjoy.

The owner, who has a flurry of the movement behind the counter as he filled orders, thought he was a vampire. He'd had his teeth shaved like fangs and always wore a long, black cape.

Everyone called him Count. I wanted to chuckle every time I said it.

I mean, really.

Hello, _Sesame Street. _

Erica and I claimed a corner space and spent several hours sipping crimson rivers and I swear, there's not a single drop of blood in them, just fruit and spices.

Anyways, we were chatting about the Gothic Martha Stewart website, about PC Cast, and Lord Byron, well, thumbs down for her but thumbs up for me.

Anyone who created such wildly romantic poems had my vote.

When we finished our last drink, we headed to Linnie's. Her "party" consisted of Erica, Robb, and me. Had she invited anyone else, they wouldn't have come. I was okay with that because I didn't need anyone else. Really.

We sat on the floor in her room, eating pizza and flipping through the newest copies of _Meltdown _and _Gothic Beauty. _

Linnie's room rocked. Black crepe hung over the windows and chairs, casting eerie shadows over the faux-cemetery setting.

The walls were painted black, something my dad wouldn't let me do, with bare tree trunks etched throughout.

Plastic stars glowed from the ceiling. Her bed's headboard was a simple wood carving with the word RIP dripping from the center in bright red. All around, dried roses spilled from vases.

Linnie is cemetery Goth.

Wait, that probably sounds weird. Let me explain. There are different types of Goth: Oriental, diva, dark fairy, cyber, Kindergoth, and Egyptian. You name it. I'm punk Goth. Like Count, Robb is vampire, not that he actually drinks blood. He hasn't shaved his teeth, either, but he does wear plastic, attachable fangs most days. Thankfully, he's not wearing the fangs right now, which means he's not talking with a lisp.

Erica is cyber Goth, a lover of all things futuristic. She usually wears latex and rubber dresses, very I-belong-on-a-ship.

Sometimes she even wears a silver full-body suit that makes her look like a space explorer out of a sci-fi movie.

"Ms. Hamilton both sucks and blows," Erica said, leaning against the edge of the black velvet settee, a piece Linnie's parents had purchased from a funeral home.

She flicked her bottle-bright red-orange hair over one shoulder.

"I can't believe she suspended Linnie for calling Betty a mad cow. That is _so _not fright."

"I called Betty a mad cow that needs to be exterminated," Linnie said happily. "Hammy said my words were tantamount to a death threat and I'm lucky I wasn't arrested."

She paused. Grinned.

"This no-tolerance policy is absolutely delish! While you losers are studying and taking quizzes, I'll be clubbing all night and snoozing all day."

Erica gave a little pout.

"Presidential elections are in two days. You won't be there to vote against Betty."

"Doesn't matter if Linnie is there or not," Robb said his tone a bit dark. He eased onto his back, crossed his arms under his head, and stared up at the ceiling. "Betty will win. She _always _does."

Linnie's grin took on an evil glint, revealing the perfect white teeth her parents had paid a fortune for.

"During lunch, one of you should put a laxative in her drink. She'll miss her own acceptance speech."

I laughed, picturing the queen Barbie stuck in the bathroom at school. Yeah, I was feeling a little more antagonistic toward Mercedes than usual.

What exactly had she told Jimmy about me? Well, whatever is was—I picked me nose? Peed the bed? Had ten thousand diseases?—he'd believe it.

An _angel _like Betty would never lie.

Bitch!

"I should have run against her," Erica said, pensive.

She plucked at the ends of her hair.

"I want to vomit every time I see her."

"As if anyone would vote for you. Or any of us, for that matter. We're the most hated kids in school."

A trace of bitterness layed Robb's words.

"We might as well join the Chess Club."

"We're already freaks," Linnie said. "Do we really want to be losers, too?"

Robb's lips parted on a sigh. He wasn't a bad-looking guy. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and a strong face, but he was pale, tall and skinny, ad completely uncoordinated.

The Barbies liked to call him Stilts.

He never said it aloud, but I knew the name embarrassed him.

"No way would I want to be class president," I said. "Can you imagine having everyone in school come to you with their stupid problems? 'Ms. Hamilton gave me a tardy, waaah!' 'Mr. Suneson yelled at me, boohoo.' 'I want chocolate cake served at lunch so I could throw it up in the bathroom later, sniffle, sniffle."

Robb snorted.

Erica bit into another slice of pizza.

Linnie's grin widened.

"Drama, drama, drama. I swear to God I'd love every second of it."

I rolled my eyes.

"Liar. I know you. You'd drug yourself to numb the pain, and when that didn't work you'd kill yourself because you'd claim hell would be way more enjoyable."

"Please. I'd have minions to do my evil bidding." She rubbed her hands together in glee and pretended to command her minions.

"You, superglue Betty's hands to her desk. You, slash Avery Richard's tires. You, get Bobby Richards's drunk, cover him in chocolate syrup and ants!"

She shrugged.

"What's not to like about that?"

"Whoa." Erica grinned. "Not repressing too much anger, are we?"

"You are pure _wicked_," Robb said, tossing a beaded pillow at her and smiling for the first time that day. Linnie easily ducked.

"But that's why I like you."

* * *

**Wow, long ass chapter.**

**Read and review!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	7. Chapter 7

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget.

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book "Oh my Goth!" **By:** Gena Showalter.

* * *

**Review time!**

**Phantom – Haha, you won't have to wait any longer!**

**Acosta – Thank you very much!**

**Beatgoeson – Haha! I know, right?**

**Cyber – Wow, you're quite a character there. Thanks anyways.**

**Death – Thank you! I will!**

**Greg – Oh yes, luscious vocabulary, I know.**

**Stardust – Thanks!**

**Jimlover – I agree! Thanks!**

**Okay, story time!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

I've been in the process of reaching for another slice of pepperoni but paused. I blinked over at Linnie, then Robb, then Linnie again.

They were totally staring at each other. Linnie's cheeks were bright pink, and Robb's breathing was a little shallow.

I shook my head in shock. I'd never seen them look at each other that way. "Are you guys messing around behind our backs or something?"

Instantly Linnie's eyes narrowed on me, and Robb's expression darkened.

"As if," Linnie grumbled. "He's like my freaking brother."

"Yeah," Robb said, glaring at the ceiling again. His lanky body was tense. "Her brother."

O-kay.

Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut, but I'd never been one to censor my thoughts or words. Besides, I'm not sure I liked the idea of Linnie and Robb dating. When they broke up, and they would, Robb would hate her. She would hate Robb. And they would both insist Erica and I take sides.

Our group would never be the same again.

That wouldn't be a problem, except I _needed _the group.

They were the only real friends I had. They were like my family.

When my mom died, they comforted me. My dad had been a mess and had barely been able to take care of himself, let alone his teen daughter. I'd never forgotten and would never forget how these three had supported me.

"I watched the Barbie clones meow it today over that new kid," Erica said, thankfully changing the subject. "What's his name? Jerry? James? Jimmy. That's it! Jimmy. They were pulling hair, scratching."

She chuckled.

"They even rolled on the ground like mangy animals. It was totally _National Geographic,_ uncensored. I only wished it lasted longer."

My ears perked, and I leaned toward her.

"What happened to Betty?"

"Nothing. Unfortunately." Erica pinched a mushroom from her pizza and popped it into her mouth. "She kicked major ass, and as much as I hate to admit this, she impressed me. The day you tore her up, she just laid there and took it. Not today, though. She fought like a jungle cat starved for fresh meat."

"Speaking of the day you tore her up…that was, like, the best day of my life," Linnie said with a chuckle. "Cindy walked back with busted knuckles, and Betty crawled away with a broken nose and swollen eyes."

"What did Jimmy do during the fight?" I couldn't help but ask. If anyone noticed my eagerness, they didn't comment.

Erica's shoulders lifted in a shrug. "He ate it up. Grinned the entire time and made no effort to stop them."

For the first time that day, I experienced a ray of hope.

Maybe Jimmy didn't like Betty. Maybe he recognized her as rotten fish wrapped in a Krispy Kreme coating.

Maybe there was a chance that he could like _me. _

Before I could explore that thought, Robb nudged me with his knee.

When my gaze met his, he said, "I heard you were sent to Hammy's office today. What punishment did you get this time?"

"She needs time to think about it," I said darkly. "I find out in the morning."

"I bet she spanks you," said Robb. With a leer.

Boys will be boys, I guess.

"I bet she calls your dad in for a conference and _he _spanks you," said Erica.

"I bet your dad sends you to military school," said Linnie.

"Look, Hammy isn't going to do _anything _and neither is my dad."

It was a lie, we all knew it. My stomach rolled into little knots. My dad wouldn't yell when he found out about my confrontation with Mr. Suneson or anything like that. Oh, no. He'd just look at me with disappointment. He'd shake his head and say he has raised me better than that and my mom would have been ashamed. Twisting a knife in my heart would be less painful.

"Let's talk about something else."

"Like what?" Erica asked.

"Like the color of Robb's underwear, for all I care." I shrugged. "Just _something_ else."

Robb's brows arched and there was a wicked twinkle in his eyes.

"Uh, who says I'm wearing underwear?"

"Ew, gross." Chuckling. Linnie threw the pillow back at him.

Erica threw a pillow at me, and it hit my shoulder. The fight was on then. Amid gales and squeals of laugher, pillows shot from one corner of the room to another, black blurs of silk. For a little while, I almost forgot about my upcoming meeting with Ms. Hamilton, my soon-to-be-dished punishment, and my dad.

Almost.

When we ran out of energy, the four of us plopped onto the floor. We stayed like that for a long while, panting and trying to catch our breath.

"Hey, let's use my cards to find out how much trouble Cindy's going to be in," Linnie finally said.

I groaned. "I thought we'd closed that subject."

"Not yet." She hopped to her feet and strode to her desk. Tarot cards in hand, she eased in front of me.

"Shuffle them."

After I shuffled the cards, she began laying them out in front of me.

Silence. Dark, heavy silence.

I didn't bother sitting up, didn't bother looking at the cards. I was too afraid of what I'd find. A tremor through me.

Linnie hissed in a breath.

"What?" My gaze jolted to her. She'd gone pale, and her lips were pressed in a thin line.

Before I could glance at the cards to at last see for myself, she gathered them up.

"Nothing," she said. She uttered a nervous laugh. "Nothing. Just…maybe, don't go to school tomorrow."

"What did you see?" Erica asked her.

Linnie bit her lip.

"Bad things. For all of us."

* * *

**Yeah, end of that chapter.**

**Read and review!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	8. Chapter 8

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget.

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book "Oh my Goth!"** By:** Gena Showalter.

* * *

**Review time!**

**Phantom – Yeah, I'm just so evil. Haha!**

**Anime – Haha, thanks!**

**Jimlover – Yep, but that's the way to go, you know?**

**Bajanboy – Wow, brilliant? Well, gee, thanks!**

**Tv – Wow, thanks!**

**Cyber – Well, you're quite the character Ms. Scarlet! Thanks for being so luscious! Haha!**

**Stardust – I DON'T KNOW! You'll have to wait and see. Hehe.**

**Acosta – Ha, I try…I try…**

**Okay, ONWARDS! WOO!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth"**

_**When you know something bad is going to happen, does trying to prevent it from happening really help? Or does the bad thing happen because you tried to prevent it?**_

Tomorrow came too freaking bright and early. I'd lain awake all night, Linnie's words echoing through my mind. Bad things, for all of us. What did that mean? All I knew was that her cards were never wrong. They'd predicated Robb's mom and dad would divorce. They'd predicted Erica would be sent away to stay with her grandmother last summer.

Neither Erica nor I spoke of the cards was we drove to school. We didn't talk about anything. Just as the first bell screeched to life and the halls quieted, she waved good-bye, her expression grim.

I entered the school lobby with dread. I wore astronaut pants and a slick, silver shirt, neither of which were mine. Since I'd stayed the night with Erica, I'd had to borrow her clothes.

Ms. Hamilton's office door was closed.

I stopped and glanced at Cher. "She's expecting me. Can I go in?"

"Nope, sorry." Cher shook her head, red curls flying in every direction. A pitying half smile raised the corners of her lips. "She's talking with your dad."

My dad? My mouth fell open, and I think my heart stopped beating. Please tell me she did not just say _my _dad.

"How long has he been in there?" I squeaked.

Cher shrugged. "About thirty minutes is my guess. The good news is I haven't heard any shouting."

Yeah, that's a real silver lining.

"And just so you know, Betty's mom is in there, too," Cher added. "So have a seat; Ms. Hamilton will let you know when she's ready for you two."

Betty's mom? The two of us? Confused, shocked, and filled with more dread, I pivoted on my head. The first thing I noticed was that Betty occupied one of the seats. Despite the two scratches on her cheek, gold star for whichever Barbie gave them to her, she looked prettier than ever in a pink sundress with her hair clipped back. She kept her gaze away from me and on the side wall.

My feet remained locked in place. My hands fisted. "Why are out parents in there together?" I hated speaking to her, but my curiosity was too great.

"Fuck off," she muttered, twirling the ends of her pale hair. Her knuckles were layered with bruises.

The door opened and suddenly I could hear a symphony of voices. One deep, one monotone, one almost like a wind chime. There was no time for me to relax, because the laughter cut off the moment my dad stepped out of the office. Instantly his gaze locked on mine, and his smile vanished. Fury seethed under the surface of his expression and in his green eyes.

"Cindy," he said with his tone hard.

I gulped and tried to play it fright. "Hey, Dad."

A pretty, petite blonde stepped to the side of my dad, her hands fisted on the waist of her expensive blue pants suit. Betty's mom, Susan Quinlan. I'd seen her around the school a couple of times, and at games as she watched her daughter cheer; she was always bubbly and upbeat.

Now she glared at Betty. "I'm ashamed of you, young lady."

"Than we're even," Betty snapped, shoving to her feet.

"_Middle-aged woman."_

Mrs. Quinlan flushed and pursed her lips. "You don't talk to me that way."

"Really?" A tinkling laugh floated from Betty, somehow mocking in its airiness. "That's funny, because I just did."

A heavy silence blanketed the room, as if no one knew how to respond to Betty's daring. I couldn't believe she'd talked to her mom like that. Didn't she know how lucky she was, to have a mom who cared about her?

My dad and Mrs. Quinlan shared a heavy look before he turned his attention to me.

"I'm tired of the way you misbehave, Cindy, and I've had enough. Ms. Hamilton is taking you on a field trip," he said, adding harshly, "You're lucky I don't send you to boot camp. You do not talk back to your teachers."

"A field trip?" My mouth fell open.

* * *

**Okay, that's a good place to stop.**

**A new chapter is coming tomorrow! So, read and review!**

**Thank you,**

**Ashley**


	9. Chapter 9

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book "Oh my Goth!"** By**: Gena Showalter.

* * *

**Phantom – You'll have to wait and find out.**

**Anime – Haha, will do.**

**Bajan – Yeah, you spelt it right ha-ha.**

**Acosta – Ha, thanks!**

**Stardust – Haha! That could work!**

**Darkbunny – I know, I'm sorry. But, I thought it would be a good cliffhanger so I stopped there. Sorry!**

**Jim – Oh, same here. Trust me.**

**Cyber – Wow, thanks for the detailed review! Thanks!**

**Okay, ONWARDS!**

**

* * *

**

"**Oh My Goth"**

Of all the things, I'd expected him to say, that wasn't it. Trickles of relief swept through me.

"Where to?"

"Somewhere you'll learn to appreciate how good you've got it." He paused, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "I've already signed the consent form. You'll go without protest, is that clear?"

He radiated unbending authority, and I didn't even think to try and appear unaffected. "Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, sir." As far as I was concerned, I was getting off easy. No grounding. No ten-page reports. No "your mom would have been upset." So protest? I don't think so. I might even sing a chorus of hallelujah.

"You're going too," Ms. Quinlan told Betty, "and if I even hear about you conducting yourself so, so…"

"Can we get this over with or what?" Betty interrupted in that same breezy tone. She flicked her hair over one shoulder. "This conversation is boring."

Mrs. Quinlan gasped, the sound layered with a combination of outrage and sadness.

"Yesterday, you were caught fighting. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, you were later caught in unladylike conduct with a boy. In the library, of all places. And you dare to give _me _attitude? Is this the kind of example you want to set for your little sister? She looks up to you."

The beginning of Susan's speech cut through me, because I knew exactly what her words meant. "Unladylike conduct with a boy" equaled Betty making out. Having heard nothing about it yesterday, and I would have, since the gossip train never stopped running, it had happened sometime after she'd escorted Jimmy to his classroom. That meant…a lethal blend of ice and fire traveled through me.

That meant Jimmy had had his tongue down Betty's vile throat.

My stomach churned with sickening disappointment killing all sense of hope. He hadn't liked me at all, wasn't interested in me in any way.

He was cute, but I barely knew him. Not like I used to, that is. This didn't matter. They didn't matter. _He _didn't matter.

_Yeah, keep telling yourself that and maybe you'll start to believe it._

"—want you to come home directly after school," my dad was saying.

I forced myself to listen, to concentrate on him, to forget about Jimmy. "I'm sorry. What?"

He frowned. "You and I are overdue for a talk, so I want you home after school." With barely a breath, he said, "Susan, I'll walk you to your car." He gently wrapped his fingers around Mrs. Quinlan's upper arm. He appeared very comfortable with her, completely at ease, as if he'd known her for a while.

I couldn't remember them having met before. At the moment, however, I didn't care if they were best freaking friends.

Betty and Jimmy had kissed.

"Ms. Hamilton can take it from here," he finished.

Mrs. Quinlan nodded and turned away from Betty. With a final glare at me, my dad ushered her away. Ms. Hamilton stood in the doorway of her office for a long while, silently staring Betty and me down, one at a time.

"You're probably wondering why you're being punished together, when your crimes have nothing to do with each other," she said in that monotone voice of hers. "I've had ongoing trouble with both of you, for different reasons, but the same punishment is appropriate."

"Where exactly…" Betty began.

"No more talking," the principal said. "Let's go."

* * *

**I know another short chapter, but a perfect place to stop.**

**Thanks for the reviews! Keep 'em going!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	10. Chapter 10

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book "Oh my Goth!"** By**: Gena Showalter.

* * *

**Hey guys! I'm SO sorry about the delay. I went on vacation for a few days to see and Ashlee Simpson down in Cape Cod. Yeah, she was good but I still hate her. **

**Sadly, I'm not going to review this chapter since there are WAY too many reviews to reply on. BUT, I will reply back next chapter.**

**I promise!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

Keeping my gaze away from Betty, I squared my shoulders, straightened my chin, and followed. I didn't need a new perspective on life and didn't know how Hammy actually thought she'd give me one on this "field trip," but I wanted out of this building, I wanted to get away from Betty and the knowledge that she'd kissed Jimmy before I did something stupid, like, cry.

I anticipated driving through slums, maybe to a crack house or a home for teenage parents so I could see how "good" my life was.

I anticipated wrong.

* * *

In total silence, with not even the hum of the radio, Ms. Hamilton drove us to a crumbling brown brick building on the edge of town.

Betty claimed the front seat, leaving me the back. I wish I'd brought a notebook so I could write, take my mind off Betty and Jimmy, my dad and Hammy.

_Everyone._

Several cars, all expensive and pristine, lined the dirt and gravel parking lot. The SUVs and luxury sedans didn't belong in the poverty-stricken setting. A few other buildings were nearby; each more dilapidated than the next. Graffiti and trash abounded. Broken glass. The faint echo of shouting and car alarms.

What was this place? I could not guess how it would teach us any kind of lesson except to avoid the area for the rest of our lives.

"You'll thank me for this one day," Ms. Hamilton murmured, exiting the car. "Come on, let's get this over with." She sounded resigned, hopeful, and eager all at once.

Betty and I emerged warily from our prospective sides and trudged behind her. Sunlight glared down and should have heated the air, but a surprisingly cool breeze danced around us.

_Get out of here, _whispered across my mind and made me shiver. I gulped and entered, anyway. I'd promised my dad I would behave, so I would. No more trouble for me, thank you very much. Besides, what could Ms. Hamilton really do to us? Nothing, that's what. She couldn't hurt us without risk of being sued.

The moment the entrance closed behind the three of us, four tall, mean-faced men dressed in blue scrubs unfolded from a couch and chairs, as if they'd been waiting for us.

They didn't say a word.

I watched in shock as two of them grabbed my arms, their grips steely and unrelenting. My eyes widened; my heart kicked into overdrive.

"What do you think you're doing? Let go!"

The other two men launched onto Betty. She screamed like a baby in full tantrum and started kicking.

"Let me go! Stop! I said let go!"

"Calm down," Ms. Hamilton said with admonishment. "You brought this on yourselves, girls."

In that moment, I realized what was going on. My eyelids narrowed to tiny slits, and I stilled.

"Are you trying to scare us straight? Is that it? Well, you'll have to do better than this to scare me."

"Oh, I will." Ms. Hamilton slowly smiled with a gleam of relish in her eyes. "Take them to their rooms."

Betty was dragged to the left, and I was dragged to the right. She protested but I remained silent, hoping I projected an unaffected air. My "escorts" pushed open double doors and a hospital-like room came into view, complete with monitors, railed bed, and a silver-haired old man in a lab coat.

He motioned to the bed with a tilt of his chin. "Strap her down."

_Strap her down. _His words reverberated in my mind and panic suddenly exploded inside me. Strapping someone to a bed stepped over the "scared straight" line. Way over.

"No, no, no," I shouted, jerking into fight mode. But even bucking wildly as I was, I was lifted effortlessly and lowered onto the bd. Seconds later, my wrists and ankles were bound to the railing with a stiff, thick cloth. My heart slammed against my ribs in an erratic, dizzying beat. "Let me go. You can't do this!"

"This is Dr. Laroque," Ms. Hamilton said. The silver-haired man nodded to me. "He's in charge or your case and he can strap you down if he wants." With that, she strolled from the room.

Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. "Ms. Hamilton. Ms. Hamilton! Come back here! You can't leave me like this!"

"This will only hurt a second, Cindy," the doctor said.

"Hurt?" Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. I shook my head violently, straining against my bonds. "Call my dad. Call him right now. He would never, never, never agree to something like this."

"You'll barely feel the needle, I promise."

"Needle?" Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. "Ms. Hamilton! Ms. Hamilton!"

"Don't worry. She's watching behind the glass." He arched a thick silver brow and pulled the plastic casing from a long, very long, needle. "Just relax. This is for your own good."

"Stay away from me." Riding a crest of fear, I arched and bucked. Despite my struggles, I remained locked in place. Helpless, not knowing what else to do. I bared my teeth, raised me head, and glared at the doctor. "You come near me with that, and I swear to God, my dad will kill you. He's military. He _knows _how."

"Your father signed the consent form," was the patient reply.

"Ms. Hamilton _tricked _him. I know it."

"Probably, but that doesn't change the fact that he did, indeed, sign the form." The doctor's movements never faltered as he hooked one end of the needle to a thin white tube. He stepped toward me. In the background, I heard Betty sobbing.

Ohmygod, he was going to do it. He was actually going to stick me with a needle. "I promise I won't talk to Mr. Suneson again," I rushed out. "Just get my dad. He'll…OW!"

"He'll applaud the change in you when this is over," Dr. Laroque said, inserting the needle into my arm.

I tried to scramble away from him, to twist to my side, to dislodge the tip. No luck. "You can't do this. It's illegal. You'll go to jail."

"Be still. The more you move, the more it will hurt."

"Just get away from me. Please," I added in a frantic whisper. Nearly a whimper.

A pause. A flick of his wrist. "There. We're done with that IV." As he spoke, he removed a syringe from his lab coat pocket.

Another needle? My eyes widened, and I fought yet another wave of panic. "What are you doing? What's that? I refuse to allow…hey, stop that! Put the cap back on that thing, I said…stop leaning toward my arm. Stop…"

He slid the needle into my hub of my IV and shot me full of God knows what. My arm burned as he tossed the used instrument of death into a nearby sharps box and grinned down at me with satisfaction. His weathered, wrinkled face should have appeared as innocent and sweet as my grandpa's, and _would _have, if I hadn't mentally painted him with horns and fangs.

"There. Don't you feel silly for acting so childish?" he asked.

The fire that had been injected into me quickly spread heating and scorching me. Burning me from inside out. The flames licked every inch of me. Tears prickled the back of my eyes, but I fought them back, gritting out, "I feel like you covered me with gasoline and lit me on fire."

He chuckled. "That feeling will pass."

Before he uttered the last word, the burning subsided as quickly as it had begun. My limbs relaxed into the cold, flat table. My muscles liquefied. At least he hadn't lied about that. A thin fog began to drift through my mind, and I fought to stay coherent. "What did you inject in me? Battery acid?"

"Silly girl, a sedative."

"Like that's any better." A strange weakness had already replaced the burning, growing, growing. "You're going to prison for a long, llllong time."

"Perhaps I'll be commended. Perhaps I'll be rewarded. You see, I've developed a virtual reality program that will whisk teenagers inside a new life—a life that will make them appreciate and respect the one they currently lead."

My nails dug into my hands, cutting into the skin. _Stay strong. Stay awake. _I had to get out of here. He was crazy. Insane.

"You don't believe me now," he said, "but you soon will."

_Fight. Escape. _I tried to jerk my hands out of the bonds, but didn't have the energy. So…tired. I was becoming boneless and sinking into a wide, welcoming black hole. "I just want to go home. Please."

"You'll be fine," he said, completely unmoved my plea.

Two nurses approached me, one taking my left side, the other my right. Each masked woman attacked tiny black clamps on my ears, and then attached the other end to a computer. Soon a slight vibration sidled along my jaw line, my temples.

"What are those?" My eyelids closed of their own accord, but I forced them open, forced myself to speak. "Take them off." My voice was slurred. "Please take them off."

"We can't." He anchored a surgical mask over half of his face. Only his eyes remained visible, and the determined gleam in them gave me no comfort. "The process has already begun. I want you to relax now," he said. He injected something else into my IV.

"Close your eyes and relax," he added as the lights dimmed. "Your blood pressure is high. I want to bring it down before we send you into the program."

"Wait. Send me where?" _Please say home. _

"You'll see."

No. No! I jolted me head straight and pried my eyelids apart. Must stay awake. "How—how long do I have to stay here?"

"As long as it takes," was his only answer.

As long as it takes…I should be alarmed. "Have you done this to other kids?" Good. I needed to concentrate, to focus. Keep the conversation going. "Has anyone died from this?"

"You're not going to die, I promise you." He glanced at the monitor nearest to me and nodded. "Excellent, you blood pressure is coming down." Without another words to me, he moved toward the computer consoles. His fingers flew over the keyboard.

A group of people continued to bustle around me, clamping various parts of my body with the vibrating thingies. Tired. So freaking tired. Unable to fight it any longer, I closed my eyes. My eyelids were simply too heavy to hold open any longer.

Breath shuddered in and out of my lungs. I needed something to occupy my mind. Something, anything to block the faint pitter-patter footsteps, the medical murmurings, the increasingly slow _beep _from my monitor. The…wait. Was that Betty I heard cursing from the other room?

"All right, Cindy," the doctor said. "You're ready." He sounded far away, and his r's reverberated continuously through my mind. Dizziness then assaulted me, momentarily wiping conscious thought from my mind, leaving only darkness.

"I've placed another sedative in your IV. You should feel sleep right now. Do you?"

I couldn't nod, didn't have the strength. I opened my mouth to say yes, but no sound emerged. _Daddy, where are you? Help me. _

"I'll take your silence for an affirmative," the doctor said amusement dripping from his voice. "Get ready for the wildest ride of your life, my dear."

They were the last words I heard before the oblivion claimed me completely.

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**Ow, my fingers kill right about now. Long ass chapter!**

**Okay, read and review and I'll reply in then next chapter.**

**Thanks!**

**Ashley**


	11. New Life

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book "Oh my Goth!"** By**: Gena Showalter.

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**AHH SCREW REPLYING TO THE FABULOUS REVIEWS! **

**THERE'S NO NEED! THANKS AGAIN EVERYONE! WOO!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

_**I'm not a bad person. I haven't killed anyone. I (rarely) lie. I don't kick little puppies. So why do people look at me as if the world would be a better place without me?**_

Sunlight streamed through my now-red bedroom curtains. I'd wanted black cobwebs over the windows, I remembered groggily. My dad wanted me to have pink ruffles, a little girl forever. We compromised with blood red drapes. The crimson-tinted light stretched toward me, too bright, unwelcome, enveloping my bed and chasing away the thick fog in my mind.

I stretched my arms over my head and arched my back. God, I ached. My bones, my muscles, and my head throbbed like I'd been the meat in a three-car pileup, and two army tanks had been the bread.

_Get up Cindy, _my mind suddenly shouted. A wave of urgency rolled through me. _Get up! Something's wrong. _Slowly, and unable to force myself to move any faster, I blinked open my eyes. The intense light caused them to sting and water, as If I'd been in a dark cave for thousands of years and had only now awakened.

What was wrong with me? Was I sick? Hung over? No, couldn't be. I didn't recall drinking last night.

A knock sounded at my door, or was that knocking coming from inside my brain? I groaned.

Then I heard another knock. "Cindy," a deep voice said.

My dad. I groaned again. If I ignored him, he might go away and I could sleep a little longer. I could…

"Cindy?" his voice cajoled determinedly.

No he wouldn't go away. "What?" I grumbled.

"Cindy, sweetie. Time to get ready for school."

School. I jolted up in bed, my blue and black hair tumbling over my shoulders and into my eyes in a tangled mass. A wave of dizziness struck me, and I rubbed my temples. _Something's wrong, _whispered through my mind again. Wasn't my dad supposed to be mad at me? Instead, he'd sounded cheerful. And happy. I mean, please. Sweetie? I shook my head in confusion.

The action must have dislodged a memory, because I suddenly saw the flash of a needle, the grinning face of a silver-haired old man. I heard Betty sobbing and felt a strange vibration sliding down my spine. Betty…field trip…

Field trip! That was it. Like the flick of a switch, the entire event flooded my brain. Ms. Hamilton driving me to a dilapidated building on the edge of town. Dr. Laroque hooking me into his computer system, into a game he'd said, with the intention of teaching me to appreciate my current life. An IV, sedatives.

All of the frustration and fury I'd felt in the laboratory skidded through me anew. My gaze jerked to my arms, but I saw only the dark cotton of my favorite Grim Reaper T-shirt. With a shaky but determined hand, I slowly raised the left sleeve. No bruises on my wrist. Higher…a little higher…afraid of what I'd find…

I released a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding, the frustration and fury draining away. Not a single bruise or needle mark marred my skin. Relief pounded through me, sweeter than Nick Dean's butt in football pants. Except, if I hadn't been strapped down, what had happened? My brow furrowed.

A dream, maybe? That was a possibility. A drug-induced trip into Crazy Town? But I hadn't doped up. I never did. Well, not anymore. The few times I'd tried it, I'd gotten crazy sick. Aliens screwing with my mind? I snorted. Truly, what the hell had happened?

Another knock on my door, this one harder. "Up and at 'em sweetie. Time is wasting."

Sweetie, indeed. "I'm up," I called.

"Twenty minutes till breakfast. Don't be late."

"I won't." Pushing out a breath, I fell back onto my pillow and gazed up at my ceiling. Since yesterday, hadn't really happened, today must be my meeting with Ms. Hamilton. I guess that means I hadn't stayed the night with Erica and hadn't gone back to school the next morning to find my dad there.

How confusing. Still. One thing was for sure. After last night's imagined terrors, _nothing_ Hammy did or said now could upset me.

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**Short, easy chapter to write for today. New chapter will be up very soon.**

**Please review and read thoroughly! Haha! **

**Thanks,**

**Ashley **


	12. Chapter 12

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book "Oh my Goth!"** By**: Gena Showalter.

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**Okay, I'll start replying to your reviews when I get up to 100 of them.**

**Okay, thank you.**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

I showered, dressed in my favorite plaid skirt and inky vinyl bustier, and anchored the blue streaks in my hair in two half ponytails. Needs something more, I thought as I studied my reflection in the mirror. I looped three silver necklaces around my neck, tugged on several bracelets, swiped my lips with blood-red lipstick, and spritzed my pulse points with the funeral-rose perfume Linnie had given me for my last birthday.

_Perfect. _

Satisfied, I strolled to the kitchen.

Dad presented me with breakfast. It was a delicious meal of toast, eggs, and bacon, and I faked a grin in thanks. I had to fake the smile because, when I say "delicious" meal, I mean it sucks the big one. I hate, hate, _hate _my dad's cooking. Gasoline tastes better, but even that couldn't disguise the nauseating flavor of his "culinary genius," as he calls it.

I ate every dripping glob, though. Without complaint too. I didn't want to hurt my dad's feelings. Once he'd coped me with my mom's death, he'd done his best to take it over her role as chef, chauffeur, and PMS advisor. Over the last two years, he's only gotten one of those things right and I'll let you guess which one that is.

"So. What's going on in your life?" he asked, opening the morning paper.

I shrugged. "Same stuff as always."

He swallowed a gulp of orange juice and set his glass aside. He heaped a spoonful of runny eggs in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and without looking up from his paper, said, "Are you driving yourself to school today?"

"Ha, you know I don't drive."

He expelled a sigh. "It's not healthy to fear something too much. You've got to get over that, Cindy."

"I will." _Not. _"One day." And it would be the same day he found that money tree he liked to mumble about every time I asked for his credit card. Cars terrified me, okay. I paused, thought it over. Correction. Getting behind the wheel of a car terrified me.

I'd tried a few times since the accident, but had panicked uncontrollably and hadn't been able to even start the engine. The bloody image of my mom dying would fill my head; I'd hear the screech of tires, the grind of metal. I'd hear her scream.

I think my dad realized the depressing direction of my thoughts, because he quickly changed the subject. "You look nice this morning."

My fork froze in midair for the split second it took me to realize he was teasing. "Yeah. Right." I finished off that last disgusting bite and scooted the plate aside. If anyone looked "nice" today, it was _him. _As an aircraft engineer, he usually wore jeans and t-shirts. Today he wore black slacks and a matching, button-up shirt. Wait. He usually had Wednesdays off. Today was Wednesday, so he should still be in pajamas. "Are you working today?" I asked.

He didn't speak for a moment, and then he folded his paper and set it aside. "No," he replied, and didn't elaborate.

"Are you going out?"

"Back up a minute, sweetie. Let's talk about you. I said you looked nice, and I meant it."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."

"Black is your best color, no doubt about it." As he gazed over at me, his features held a hint of wistfulness, an edge of sadness. "I wish your mom was here to see the beautiful young woman you've become. She'd be so proud."

This final bit of praise shocked me to the bone, and I blinked over at me. O-kay. Did he have a fever? Food poisoning? Brain aneurysm? My dad loved me, but jeez. I looked beautiful? My mom would be so proud of me? Black was my freaking best color?

One, he hated black.

Two, he never talked about my mom.

And there, he never, NEVER, complimented my appearance. In fact, he was always hinting I needed to change. For God's sake, the man bought me a pale pink cardigan, white Keds, and lace socks for my seventeenth birthday, hoping I'd suddenly forget about my affinity for vinyl, heeled boots, and fishnets.

"I'm ready for the punch line," I said.

His brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I. Are you playing a joke on me?" Or was this weird act some sort of punishment? Had Ms. Hamilton called him and told him about my confrontation with Mr. Parton?

No, surely not. If he knew about Mr. Parton, he would demand an explanation instead of…complimenting me. So. I guess that meant I had no answer and no idea what had brought this on.

"A joke?" He scrubbed a hand over his slightly stubbled jaw. "Why would you think that?"

I arched an eyebrow, shook my head, and said, "Answering my question with a question of your own. Good tactic, bit it won't fly. Why are you messing with me, Dad?"

"Sweetie, I would never joke about that kind of thing. I know how delicate a young girl's self-image can be." He frowned, regarding me for a long, silent moment. "You're acting weird, honey. What's going on?"

"Case in point: 'sweetie' and 'honey'. You never call me by those names."

"I call you my sweetie every day."

I drummed my fingers on the tabletop. He had said that seriously, without a twinkle in his eyes or a hint of a smile curling his mouth. "Since when?" I demanded.

"Since…" Expression incredulous, as if he couldn't quite believe we were having this conversation, he threw up his arms. "Since forever."

"Dad. Please."

What the hell was going on?

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**Okay, all done with that chapter. So, REVIEW!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	13. Chapter 13

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book "Oh my Goth!"** By**: Gena Showalter.

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**Thanks for the great reviews everyone!**

**Phantom – Haha, thanks!**

**Acosta – Oh yesh, I know. But, oh well. That's how the story goes.**

**Bajan – You'll have to wait and find out.**

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**Death – Well, I really thought that Cindy was an independent character and that this story would work so well with the JN characters. So, thank you!**

**Thanks again guys!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

He shook his head and dropped his fork with a clang. "Are you and Nick fighting again? Is that what this is about?"

"No, we're not—wait. What? Did you say Nick? What Nick are you talking about?"

"There's more than one Nick in your life?" He chuckled. "Nick Dean, silly."

I blinked, more confusion sizzling hot and bright inside me. Nick Dean, the hottie jock all the girls drooled over? Nick Dean, Betty's on again/off again boyfriend? Nick Dean, captain of the football team and the boy I'd secretly crushed on for years before realizing how stupid such a crush was? My cheeks heated with just the memory of my foolishness.

My dad didn't know anything about Nick. I'd never told him. I'd never told _anyone. _Not even Linnie or Erica. This past year, I'd even stopped thinking about him, had stopped writing stories about him.

"How do you know about Nick, dad? How?" I gasped, a thought sliding into place. "Did your read one of my notebooks?"

My dad's mouth fell open in an affront. "I would never invade your privacy that way. You know Nick came to the house last weekend. You were here. You invited him." Dad crossed his arms over his chest, concern darkening his eyes. "You're starting to worry me. Are you okay?"

"Stop it, just stop."

Too weird.

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**Dang, I got to go, but I'll update tonight. PROMISE!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	14. Chapter 14

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book "Oh my Goth!"** By**: Gena Showalter.

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**Okay, I'm going to move right onto the story.**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

I didn't understand what was going on. Maybe he'd read the notebook, maybe he hadn't. Either way, why was he _pretending _I had a boyfriend? My confusion intensified. I was completely weirded out, and yes, angry, as I uncurled from the table.

"I'm not sure I can deal with you right now, and I'm seriously considering calling your supervisor and recommending drug testing. Don't expect me home after school. I'll be with my friends." Without another word, I grabbed my backpack from the floor and strode out of the house.

"Sweetie?" he called. "Honey, what's gotten into you? Why are you acting like this? Talk to me, please."

I kept moving, brushing past the white Jetta he'd bought me for my sixteenth birthday. I didn't slow my pace, even when he rushed onto the porch, staring after me. My bag, heavy with my books, bounced against my back. The thick straps dug into my shoulders. We lived a mile from the school, so walking was no big deal. I'd done it before. Thankfully the morning air was clean and cool.

Desperate for an explanation, I replayed the conversation with my dad through my mind. No answer magically appeared. Was I still asleep, perhaps, involved in a seemingly real nightmare?

It was just…my dad had never acted that way before.

_Never._

A car honked, breaking into my thoughts. Someone whistled. A girl shouted, "Hey, Cindy!"

Startled, I glanced at the road only to see a Mustang convertible with two black-haired teens spilling from the windows. The car sped away before I could get a good look at the kids. O-kay. I shook my head, my confusion increasing yet another notch. I had no idea who had shouted at me. Not one of my friends, that was for sure.

Before I reached the school, three other cars honked at me. Two other girls and on boy belted out friendly hellos. It was…odd. Surreal. For God's sake, what was wrong with everyone today?

Finally, someone I knew drove past me. Erica. When I saw her Bronco, I experienced a wave of relief. I motioned her over, hoping to catch a ride with her and exit Bizarro World, like, yesterday. She slowed down, eased to the curb, and rolled down her window.

"Thank god you came by," I said with a sigh. "You wouldn't believe…"

She flipped me off.

I ground to a puzzled halt, standing open-mouthed beside her car. "Erica?" Her name gasped from me. I could dismiss the finger as a joke. I could not dismiss her appearance, and I swallowed the sudden bile in my throat. Did I see _pink_?

"Rot in hell, Goth clone," she growled. Her tires squealed, rubber burning, as she peeled away.

_Goth clone_?

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**Okay, all done for tonight. **

**Please review!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	15. Chapter 16

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book "Oh my Goth!"** By**: Gena Showalter.

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**Yay, I'm finally back from vacation! No time to waste, here's the next chapter!**

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"**Oh My Goth!"**

**_There's a really stupid saying: When life hands you a lemon, make lemonade. Well, I have a better saying: When life hands you a lemon, shove that lemon up its stupid butt._**

I arrived ten minutes late.

The tardy bell had already rung, and I was the only student in the area. I pushed past the double doors, sailed through the metal detector, and set it off as always, and had to backtrack to be scanned, or be chased through the building, tackled to the ground, and carted to the nearest police station. Playing hide and seek with the guard wasn't on my to-do list today.

Frustrated, filled with a sense of urgency, I tapped my foot as I waited for the big, burly, always giving my grief security "expert" to grab the scanner.

"Hurry," I told him, adding. "Please," as an afterthought.

He smiled and waved me on. "I know you're not carrying a weapon, Cindy, not a sweet thing like you. Go on, get to class."

Sweet thing like me? No, no, no. I thought wildly and had to remind myself to breathe. He _never _dismissed me without hassling me.

"I'm not inside a game," I muttered. "I'm not inside a game. He's just messing with me. You know, trying to get me in trouble."

If he heard me, he gave no notice. "Go on." His smile widened. "Get out of here."

My gaze remained locked on him for another split, seemingly endless second, searching for answers but finding none. _I'm not inside a game, _I thought. "Fine," I grumbled. I rushed down the empty hallways. He didn't chase me. Walls, posters, and banners whizzed past. I was unsure, so unsure of what I'd find.

Panting—note to self: exercise more—I entered the office lobby. "I'm here for my meeting with Ms. Hamilton," I told Cher between breaths.

"I'm sorry." Cher hooked a red curl behind her ear. She looked normal, at least. A blood-red, sequined dress draped her plump body. "She's out this morning doll."

Doll? I almost moaned. "When will she return?"

"She didn't say."

"Well, where is she?"

"She didn't say."

I threw up my arms. My jaw clenched and unclenched in frustration. "I have a meeting with her," I said, praying it was true, that yesterday had never happened and today was the _real _meeting. "She told me to come straight to her office this morning. So, here I am."

Cher frowned. "Are you sure about that meeting? I don't have you on the schedule."

"Did you—did you see me in here yesterday, then?"

Her chin canted to the side as she studied me. "No. Why?"

_Breathe, Cindy. If last night was indeed a dream, then it's good news she just gave you. _"Will you tell Ms. Hamilton I need to speak with her when she comes in? It's urgent."

"Sure thing, doll."

"Just..." What? Hunt Ms. Hamilton down? Pinch me? Tell me why everyone is acting so strangely? Tell me that yesterday never happened? "Don't forget to tell her I need to speak with her. It's a matter of life and death."

Cher's lips twitched. "I'm sure it is," she said.

I tangled a hand through my hair. There was nothing more I could do here, nothing more I could say. But I wasn't ready to leave. I clung to a fragile hope that Ms. Hamilton would suddenly appear and tell me it was time for our meeting.

"You should probably go to class," Cher hinted.

To buy time, I said, "I need a tardy slip." As I spoke, I stared at the glass doors, willing Hammy to appear.

Cher smiled indulgently. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure there's a good reason you're late, and your teacher will understand." She waved me on, just like the security guard had done and even repeated his words. "Get to class. You know Mrs. Rogers doesn't like to start without you."

Since when did my history teacher need my presence to lecture?

"But…"

"Go on," she said, a little more stern.

Stomach knotted, I slowly ambled away. My gaze lingered on the front door as long as possible. I didn't know what I'd find inside the classroom where I was headed; I only knew I was scared. Has Ms. Hamilton told everyone to treat me like a pampered princess? Surely not. That seemed too elaborate, and I couldn't understand how that would teach me a lesson.

I need to talk to Betty. She could confirm or deny the field trip.

A shudder slipped down my spine. The concept of seeking out my worst enemy for a conversation was foreign to me, and everything inside me gagged. But…what if we _had _been sent inside a virtual reality program? What if…

God, I didn't even want to _think _about it.

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**Okay, that's it for today. Please read and review and make suggestions or requests. Thanks so much guys!**

**Thanks again,**

**Ashley**


	16. Chapter 17

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh my Goth!" By**: _Gena Showalter_.

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**Well, all of your comments were the same. Jimmy is coming up soon in this story, don't worry.**

**Okay, ONWARDS!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth"**

"_Everything will be okay," _I chanted under my breath. _"Everything will be okay." _

I reached my first class all too soon and stood in front of the red and black postered door, my hand posed over the knob. What would I find inside? Please be normal, please be normal, please me normal.

With a shaky hand, I turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped forward.

Mrs. Collins stood at the head of the classroom and the moment she spied me, she stopped taking attendance. Utter silence. Wait, were those crickets in the background? Her dark brown hair was pulled in a tight ponytail, and she wore an ankle-length beige skirt and a white button-up shirt. Perfectly normal.

I sighed in relief.

"There you are, Cindy." Her entire face lit up in a happy grin. "I'm so glad you could make it. Come in and we'll get started."

Not normal. My relief twisted into uncertainty. "I don't have a tardy slip."

The entire class turned in their seats, facing me. I flicked them a quick glance, faced Mrs. Collins again, and then jerked my attention back to the kids. My eyes widened, becoming impossibly round. Shock pounded through me, more intense in that moment than all the other times combined. My mouth floundered open and closed as I stared in horror. Oh. My. Freaking. God.

No way I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. I blinked, then blinked again. Nope, no change. "What's going on?" I managed to gasp out. I switched my horrified gaze to Mrs. Collins, my shaky hand sweeping over the students.

Her smile slowly faded. "Nothing is going on, why?"

Please let this be a dream. My gaze skirted over every student present, and I realized it couldn't be a dream. The acid in my throat was all too real. The lead ball in my stomach was too real. Yes, this was real and so terrible I had trouble drawing in air.

They were dressed as Goths. Nearly all of them, Goth. Black clothes, bright, multicolored hair, piercings, and tattoos abounded. Some of the girls had painted teardrops on their faces. Some wore black lipstick. One boy, Bolbi I think, had wrapped thick silver chains around the entire length of his neck.

Almost every classmate, from the girl who liked to trip me in the cafeteria to the boy who turned the note I'd written him into a paper airplane, were grinning at me as if I were a shiny new car. Paid in full. Keys in the ignition. Several of them were wearing the exact outfit I'd worn yesterday. A few of them were playing with tarot cards.

No way Ms. Hamilton could have convinced this many people to dress like me as a joke or a punishment. That meant…that meant…

"Hi, Cindy," someone said, breaking the silence.

They all spoke up at once then, their voices blending together. "Hey, girl."

"Did you get my message? Want to go to the mall later?"

"Are we still on for tonight? My parents are working late…"

"Where did you get those pants? Soooo _fright._"

_Fright?_ No way Hammy could have convinced this many people to be nice to me.

Clattering voices rang in my ears, and I covered my mouth with my still-shaky hand. Ms. Hamilton and Dr. Laroque had really done it. They'd—they'd—they'd sent me inside a virtual reality game.

Everything inside me screamed to deny it, but really, how could I? The proof was here, right in front of me. Smiling at me. Asking me out on a date. Telling me my clothes were fright. I hadn't wanted to believe it, but…

I truly _was_ in the virtual reality game.

* * *

**Okay! All done for now. I won't be back for another week or so but, I will keep updating when I get to about 170 reviews.**

**So, keep reviewing! Thank you so much everyone! For everything!**

**Ashley**


	17. Chapter 19

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh my Goth!" By**: _Gena Showalter_.

* * *

**Thanks for the great reviews everyone!**

**Phantomphan1992 – I know! I'd be freaking out, but, I guess Cindy doesn't "roll" that way. Haha!**

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**Thanks again everyone!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth"**

Whether they were real or not, I couldn't mention what had happened. Not to a nurse, not to anyone. _No, no, no._ I could guess every possible reaction to the conversation.

Me: The world around us isn't real! We're inside a game, I swear!

**Reaction #1**: Hahahahahahaha. Good one.

**Reaction #2**: Someone call the ambulance. We've got a drug overdose in progress.

**Reaction #3**: Put your overactive imagination away, young lady. What do you think I am, stupid?

Mrs. Collins hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Very," I said softly, breath burning in my throat. Having nowhere else to go at the moment, I eased into my chair and dropped my bad at my ankles. I felt sick.

"All righty, then," Mrs. Collins said. "If you're sure you're okay…"

I nodded, the action almost imperceptible. And a complete lie. I might never by okay again.

"I'll begin my lecture. Class, you're in for a real treat today!" Practically skipping, she returned to the head of the class. She frowned. "Stevie, put your lighter away. You too, Hannah. This isn't a concert. Now then, the Salem witch trials were indeed a battle between good and evil, just not the way you think. They were—"

I tuned her out and twisted in my seat, casting Robb a hand, insistent glance. _Look at me, _I silently beseeched. _Like me. _

The Asian Goth next to him—I didn't know her name, only that she was a fake—threw a wadded paper ball that crashed into Robb's cheek. He flinched. Several people snickered, but Robb ignored them. I knew he wasn't unaffected, though. Red color stained his cheeks.

"Freak," the girl muttered. She crumpled up another paper and drew back her elbow, ready to launch.

"Stop!" I shouted. "Leave him alone."

She froze. Her horror-filled gaze locked on me, and she dropped her hand onto her desk with a thump. "I'm sorry, Cindy."

The words were so foreign to me; it was almost like she was speaking a different language. When had a student ever _apologized _to me?

"Is something wrong?" Mrs. Collins asked. Her hands were anchored on her hips as he glared at Robb, as if he were at fault for the disruption.

"No," I said, not taking my eyes from him. A pause, heavy and tension-filled. Mrs. Collins shrugged, and jumped back into her lecture.

Robb never glanced in my direction.

_Look at me, I need you. _I thought.

Nothing.

"Hey, why are you acting so unfright?" Avery Dean, Nick's twin sister, whispered. "I called your Sidekick this morning, but you didn't answer. I e-mailed it, but you didn't reply."

Assuming she was talking to the Asian Goth, I allowed my head to fall into my upraised hands. Defeat swamped me. I wanted out of this game! I wanted my friends back to normal, I wanted my dad back to normal. I wanted my individuality!

"_Pst. _Cindy. Are you listening to me?" Avery tossed a pencil and it bumped my shoulder. "Cindy! For real, pay some attention to me."

Frowning, I raised my head. My gaze met hers because she was staring at me expectantly. "Are you talking to me?" I asked.

"Your name is Cindy, isn't it?" Her perfect brown scrunched—and didn't she looks sickeningly adorable as a dark fairy Goth? Avery was Betty's closest friend and second in command of the Barbies. She usually wore an aura of smugness, a sundress, and perfectly applied makeup. Today she gazed at me with genuine sweetness, was draped in black cobweb lace, and had red and black glitter circled around her eyes like a mask.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked. "Why did you defend that freak?"

"He's not a freak," I snapped.

"Then what is he?" She didn't wait for my response. "Yesterday you hated him, and today you defend him? Did I miss something? Why don't you ask him to prom and ruin your social status forever?" she suggested dryly.

I turned away from her. Did I mention that I hate her as much as I hate Betty? While Betty has always taunted me, Avery had always ignored me as if I'm beneath her.

"Cindy," she whispered. "I'm sorry, okay. I shouldn't have said that. Like you could _ever_ ruin your social standing…" She paused, titled her head. "Mrs. Collins is right for once. You _do _look ungodly pale. And not in a good, undead-vampire way, either. You're like a corpse."

"I feel like one," I muttered.

"Girls," Mrs. Collins said with an apologetic smile. "I don't mind if you talk but bring it down a notch, okay? This is the second time I've been interrupted." She flicked Robb a narrowed glance.

"Sure thing Mrs. C," Avery said. "By the way, you're on _fire _today. I mean, your lecture is sooo fright."

"Thank you." She twisted with a happy grin and jumped back into her lesson. I'd always suspected she'd been a nerd during her high school years. That would explain why she was beyond happy when the popular kids praised her.

Avery leaned closer to me, saying in a fierce but quiet voice, "You're only like my best friend. Tell me what's going on with you."

I inwardly groaned. Her best friend? As if. Usually, in her mind, I was mud caked on her three-hundred-dollar boots. Her change in attitude made sense, though. My real friends hated me. So why wouldn't my enemies adore me?

The realization only increased my determination to get home.

"You don't really mean that," I said, refusing to play alone. "We're not friends." No game was going o decide who _I _liked. Nor was any game going to make me forget all the things Avery had done to me over the years.

Her brows furrowed together, and hurt gleamed in her eyes. "Uh, yes, I do. And yes, we are."

"Avery, trust me on this." I spoke the words without anger, explaining like a teacher to a student. "We've never been and we never_ will_ be friends."

"Why would you say something like that?" Her pretty features crumbled, the hurt in her eyes intensifying. She straightened in her chair. "Did I do something wrong? I apologized for telling you to date the freak."

"He's not a freak," I growled, ignoring her questions. There was no way to answer her. The past I remembered obviously wasn't the past she remembered.

_God_, I had to find a way out of this hell.

* * *

**Ow, my freaking fingers! Haha! Thanks for reading!**

**Please review!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	18. Chapter 20

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh my Goth!" By**: _Gena Showalter_.

* * *

**Thanks for the reviews everyone! **

**Phantomphan1992 – Oh wow, thank you so much!**

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**Okay, ONWARDS!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

Someone tapped me on the shoulder. Dreading what I'd find, I slowly turned…and came face-to-face with Nick Dean. My dread morphed into another round of shock. He'd dyed his pale hair and it was now so black is appeared purple. Black eyeliner edged the corners of his eyes. He'd even rimmed his lips with black. And he looked good.

"Mmm, you look good," he said, mimicking my thoughts. His heavy-lidded gaze pursed me. He radiated the supreme confidence of a guy who knew all of the girls adored him. "We still on for this weekend?"

If I hadn't been convinced of the game before, I was now. Nick Dean was _talking _to me. He hadn't called me a freak. No, he'd asked me out. Unbelievable. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

"Well?" he prompted hopefully. "Are we?"

I managed to gasp out, "This weekend?"

"Yeah, I'm having a little party."

"After the football game?"

"Good one. You know football is for freaks." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "My parents will be out of town. Tell me you'll come or I might as well cancel."

_Tell him no. You refuse to play along, remember? _"I don't know," I found myself saying instead.

"If you come, I'll make sure you have fun." His voice dipped low with suggestion and promise. "We'll have an Ouija board and tarot cards and we can kiss all night long."

The butterflies' dance became frantic.

"Mr. Dean," Mrs. Collins admonished. "Voice down, please."

"If Cindy agrees to come to my party on Saturday," he responded, "I'll shut up. I won't say another word the rest of class. But she _has _to agree."

All eyes focused on me. Even the teacher's, who had an isn't-this-romantic glaze on her face. I gulped and shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Nick cared about my presence.

"Cindy, what did I do to upset you?" Avery beseeched, cutting through the sudden silence. "I cant _stand _not knowing."

"Nothing," I said, because I'd rather focus on her than Nick. "We're fright, okay, so drop it."

"_Really_?" Slowly her lips lifted into a relieved grin.

"Well, Cindy?" Nick prompted.

The classroom door burst open and crashed against the wall, saving me from a reply. I jumped. Several people gasped. Betty rushed inside the room, her eyes frantic, her expression wild. Her outfit was perfect, as usual—a white sundress and sandals—but her hair was tangled around her shoulders as If she'd raked her hands through one too many times.

"Is Cindy Vortex in here?"

"Freak alert," Nick muttered.

"Anyone bring a tranq gun?" Avery quipped, back to her usual self, only she had a new target. "We need to put the Barbie queen out of her misery."

Gales of laughter erupted.

"Avery? Why didn't you pick me up this morning?" Betty stalked up to her. "I waited for you."

"Ew." Avery shuddered and turned away from her. "_It's_ talking to me. Somebody make _it_ stop!"

Betty ground to a halt, her horrified gaze trekking over Avery. "Why are you dressed like a _Goth_?" Her voice was tortured. "I called, e-mailed, _and _texted you this morning, but you didn't respond."

"That's enough! Who do you people think you are, disrupting my class?" Scowling, Mrs. Collins pounded over to her. "Go to the office, young lady. Right now. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior."

I leapt to my feet. Robb stood, too, I noticed, from the corner of my eye.

Betty spotted me. Our gazes locked, and she closed the distance between us. "You were there," she said, ignoring Mrs. Collins. "You know this is wrong. You're the only one who knows."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"You have to help me. Something happened yesterday. Something horrible and awful and terrible!"

"God, what a _loser_." Avery threw an eraser at her. When it bounced off her nose, Avery laughed. "Get out of here. You're stinking up the room."

"You _have_ to help me," she repeated to me, desperate. "I don't know what to do."

"You don't need _her_," Robb said, marching forward. He brushed past me and clasped Betty's hand. "Come on. I'll take you home. I've had enough of the Goth clones, too."

I watched as Robb dragged Betty out of the classroom, too shocked to speak. Robb hated the Barbies as much as I did, but right now he looked like an avenging angel, protective and determined, willing to endure punishment to save his…friend? Of course. If my friends hated me, they now _loved _Betty. My hands clenched.

He'd once considered _me _the one in need of protection—not that he'd ever made a scene for me. How many shocks could one person take before their heart exploded from strain?"

"—_and_ you can both go straight to Ms. Hamilton's office," Mrs. Collins was saying. "How dare you burst into my classroom and disrupt my lesson. That kind of behavior is unacceptable."

A part of me enjoyed seeing my worst enemy rearmed. The other part of me _really _enjoyed seeing my worst enemy reamed. Too bad I needed to speak with that enemy. Like she said, we were the only two people who understood the wrongness of the situation. Maybe—God—maybe we could help each other.

I found my voice and shouted on a wave of desperation, "Mrs. Collins, relax! Betty, wait!"

Mrs. Collins gasped, but stopped her tirade. Chairs squeaked against the floor as everyone turned and stared at me, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Even Robb. He paused, blinking over at me, unsure how to react to what he probably considered odd behavior for the fake me.

Fake me—yeah, that fit.

Betty ripped free of Robb's grip and faced me. "Do you know what's going on, Cindy? Did they tell you what they did to us?"

"Mrs. Collins, I'll make sure Betty goes to the office," I said. I didn't wait for her response, just rushed forward, clasped onto Betty's forearm, and jerked her from the room. She followed willingly. Robb followed; too, slamming the door in Mrs. Collins's stunned face.

* * *

**Okay, that's it for today! Please, read and review!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	19. Chapter 23

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh my Goth!" By**: _Gena Showalter_.

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**Yeah, um, I pretty much have the coolest reviewers of all time. Are you kidding me guys? 203 reviews? Just, wow. I love you guys so much!**

**Phantom – Haha, will do!**

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**Okay, ONWARDS!**

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"**Oh My Goth!"**

Sticking around the school and waiting for Ms. Hamilton—my smile never wavering—proved more difficult than anything else I'd ever done. But I did it. For the most part. I pretended like it was a nice, normal day, pretended like I wasn't wishing everyone who approached me would rot in hell, and smiled. And waited. And smiled some more.

And freaking waited some more.

By lunch, my smile was brittle and my pretend happiness on the verge of total annihilation. Allow me to explain why.

**Number of time I was asked for outfit advice: 9**

**Friends who hated me: 2**

**Number of times said friends flipped me off: 10**

**Number of time kicked out of front office: 14**

**Homicides slimly avoided: 671**

Smile, I reminded myself as I took my place in the lunch line. A boy skateboarded past me. I wanted to yell, "That isn't allowed."

Yesterday the entire school despised my hair, my clothes. Yesterday they called me bad names and laughed at me. _Yesterday _they would have killed themselves If they'd been caught talking to me. Today they loved me. Everyone knew my name, and everyone wanted a piece of me.

Everyone except the only two people who mattered, that is. Erica and Robb.

During my creative writing class—which had, surprisingly, been bursting with students—I once again approached Robb. He once again acted as if he didn't hear or see me. I'd wanted to shake him, but had been too close to tears. I was used to rejection, but not like this. Not by someone who was supposed to understand me.

The lunch line inched forward. _Smile, Cindy._

Lord, my face hurt. So badly I wanted to leave, to just pack it up and go somewhere, _anywhere _else. I couldn't, though. Where the hell was Ms. Hamilton? Hiding, most likely. Afraid we'd hurt her? Most definitely.

I didn't know how many more days like this I could handle. Please let me return today, I prayed, edging closer to the silverware. I wasn't hungry and didn't think I would be able to eat, but I was desperate for some sort of normalcy, something to ground me in my other reality. I always got a tray from this line; today would be no different. I hated this feeling of free-falling in a winding, dark, _unfamiliar _tunnel, twisting and turning.

The girl dressed as an Asian Goth passed me. "Darkness rules!" she cried, then stopped and backtracked. She had inky black hair slicked back in a bun and held together by chopsticks. She'd painted her face white and was wearing a shiny Kimono. "Are you eating a hamburger, Cindy?"

I groaned inside. _Smile. This is a nice, normal day. _"Yeah. I am."

"Fright." Her mouth stretched in a wide grin, revealing silver braces. "Me, too." She clomped off to the end of the line, calling, "Did you hear that? I'm eating the same thing as Cindy Vortex!"

Her excitement freaked me out. She wanted to be me, to take my identity—Miss Popular—as her own. They all did. "Why won't this line hurry?" I muttered.

They punk Goth in front of me spun on his heel. He reeked of tart cologne, and I wrinkled my nose. "You can go in front of me," he said. His eyes were wide and brown, and he looked like he'd just been given a naked cheerleaders calendar.

"That's okay." Smiling. I'm smiling. Nice, normal day. I shook my head. "I'm fine where I am."

"No, really. It's okay. It's better than okay. Please."

"I'm fine," I repeated. Why wouldn't they leave me alone? Just give me a minute or two of peace? At one time, I _had _wanted to know what I would be like to be popular, to be loved and included. How could I have known it would make me feel like I was being pulled in a million different directions? Like I was a fraud? Like I was someone other than myself? "Really. I'm fine."

"You can go in front of me, too," a girl said.

"Me, too."

"And me."

The line suddenly opened up. I gazed ahead, and for a surprising second (or two) I stopped feeling stressed and actually experienced a little delight. Because these kids liked me, I wouldn't have to stand in line and wait. I could grab my food and at last sit down and relax.

All too soon, however, I recalled how these same kids liked to push me and my friends out of the cafeteria, steal our trays, and trip us. My eyes narrowed on them.

"Cynthia shouldn't be at the back of the line," the punk Goth said.

This generosity would come with a price, I knew. These people—who only liked me because I was (supposedly) popular—would now expect me to treat them like a friend, to wave at tem in the halls and talk to them between classes. No way. They would totally betray my true friends.

You hate me, and I hate you, I wanted to shout. But I moved to the front with my head high. No one attempted to kick or shove me. How that used to bother me. How I'd hated it. Now I almost wished they would do it; then I wouldn't feel conflicted in any way. I wouldn't want to smile and thank them for such a nice gesture. I'd just hate them like I normally did.

The scent of overcooked, greasy meat hit me. My stomach churned, but I collected my tray and turned toward the tables. My gaze skidded to my usually table in back. Robb and Erica were there, alone. Thankfully, Betty was nowhere to be seen. I might have beaten her up if she'd been with them, pretending to be their friend.

I straighted my back (smiled again) and stepped toward them. When I reached the table, I gently placed my tray beside Erica's. Startled, she glanced up. Her eyes narrowed, and she nudged Robb.

"Look who decided to slum in," she said.

Robb glanced at me, frowned and jolted to his feet. "Why don't you back to your friends, so you can curse us with your black magic or whatever it is you do. Just stay away from us."

"I want to sit with you, that's all."

"Leave us alone," Erica said.

"You like me," I found myself saying in a rush, hoping to make them understand, "but I was forced into a virtual reality game and it changed everything around." I had decided not to tell anyone, but I wanted so badly for them to know and like me again that the words poured out.

"My God." Erica glowered at me. "You actually think we're stupid enough to fall for that?" She flipped me off and stood.

Together, she and Robb walked out of the cafeteria without a single glance in my direction.

Hurt washed through me as I stared after them. I guess a part of me had expected them to remember (or realize) the truth by now. At the very least, to consider my words. My shoulders slumped, and I lost my smile. I couldn't force it to stay a moment longer, and I couldn't force it to come back. I haven't done anything wrong, I wanted to shout at them. How can you treat me like that? I wanted to scream.

How could they abandon me when I needed them the most?

"Hey, Cindy," someone said beside me. I didn't turn and look. "Are you participating in the fund-raiser for Wizardry Club? We're selling coffin necklaces this year. They're really fright. I'll buy you one if you want."

"No, thanks," I said, distracted.

"Cindy!" One of the Barbie clones—no, Goth now. The Goth clones—a.k.a. the Fake Goths—waved me to their table. "Over here, Cindy," Avery called.

They were the kind of people others envied. They had everything: beauty, brains, and talent. Yet they tore others down, rather than build them up. And they expected me to be one of them.

Shaking my head, I lifted my tray and looked away. I couldn't be in their company a moment longer without killing someone. They'd dogged me all day, and had even followed me into the bathroom: "Do you like my hair? ...Are my nails black enough? … Should I pierce my eyebrow? … Look at that freak."

Having trouble drawing in a breath, I continued my search. My gaze snagged on another group of people, the jocks. Well, they weren't jocks any longer. Word around the hall was sports were "out" and darkness was "in". I stiffened. They, too, waved me to their table. "Sit by me," Nick said. He patted the empty seat beside him. "I saved you a spot."

Breathing became even _more _difficult. Again, I shook my head and looked away. I didn't know what I'd say to him. He made me nervous. The band geeks motioned me to join them. They still weren't popular, but they were higher on the social ladder than the Barbies.

All around me I heard, "Over here," and "Sit by me." The voices blended together and became a constant, blurred ring. Time slowed to a tortuous dragging. I had no real friend. I was trapped here indefinitely. Waves of dizziness swept through me, and shallow puffs of oxygen burned in my lungs.

"We saved you a seat, Cindy."

"Where did you get your shirt, Cindy? It's _so _fright."

"Can I get you anything, Cindy?"

As they called for me, my frustration, my fury, and my very suppressed scream flooded me, rushed me. Drowned me. Couldn't…breathe…at all now. This was too much. There'd been too many changes in too short a time. My world had been dumped upside down, cut up, and glued back together with the wrong pieces.

I needed to be alone. I needed to think. But every table was occupied, even the one I stood in front of, the one Erica and Robb had vacated only seconds before. I felt myself paling, felt sweat beating on my forehead.

Someone bumped into me, and I stumbled forward. Sliced pears swished over the rim of my tray.

"Watch ou…" I heard distantly. "Oh, hi Cindy. I'm so sorry. I should have looked where I was going. Fright shoes. Where did you get them?"

I had to get out of here. I couldn't take this anymore. Couldn't take any more questions about my clothes or my favorite hair products. Couldn't take any more false smiles—my own or theirs—couldn't take any more false bits of praise.

I wasn't who these people thought I was. They didn't really like me, I mused again, they just thought they did. It was all so fake, no one and nothing true to itself.

"Cindy?" someone asked, voice filled with false concern.

"Yo, Cindy!"

I dumped my tray and ran.

Just, _ran_.

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**My hands kill so bad right now. You have no idea haha. **

**Thanks for the reviews everyone! Keep the up for faster updates!**

**Thank you,**

**Ashley**


	20. Chapter 24

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: Gena Showalter.

* * *

**Once again, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE WONDEFUL REVIEWS!**

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**Okay, ONWARDS!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

_**How does fear become so powerful? We can't see it. We can't touch it, yet it gets its claws in us and begins to control us. Sigh. I hate feeling afraid, and I hate, hate, HATE feeling out of control.**_

I made it to the parking lot before grinding to a halt. I didn't have my backpack and didn't have any money. What's more, I didn't have a mode of transportation.

I was stuck.

Hot, humid air beat all around me, sweltering, driving home the point that I truly was in hell. Bending over and anchoring my palms on my knees, I sucked in breath after breath of needed air.

I could have walked home, but I didn't want to deal with my dad's new appreciation for a girl that wasn't really me. Why couldn't he work a regular week like other parents, Monday through Friday?

I couldn't go to Linnie's. She probably hated me as much as Robb and Erica did.

"Hey, Cindy."

No! I kept my head down, glaring at the gravel at my feet. The sun glinted off it, making me squint. If one more person asked what kind of hair product I used, I was going to give the students of Hell High another _National Geographic _demonstration. "Go away," I mumbled.

A pause. Then, "Fine. Whatever."

My eyes rounded, and I flicked a glance to the side. I recognized Jimmy's jean-clad butt as he walked away from me. Recognized the deep voice that was echoing in my ears. Had he followed me out of here? He had appeared as surely as if I'd cast a magic spell for him.

As much as I craved solitude, I found myself shouting, "Jimmy!"

He paused. I straightened. Slowly he turned on his booted heel. One of his dark eyebrows arched under the fall of dark hair on his forehead. There was a flash of guilt in his expression, as if he were sorry for interrupting me. "Yeah?" he said.

"What-what are you doing out here?" I asked stupidly. I didn't know what else to say. My mind had gone completely blank.

"You looked upset. I thought I could, I don't know, help or something. Obviously, I was wrong." He turned to walk away again.

"Wait." Being alone didn't seem so wonderful after all of a sudden. I'd just worry some more. Probably cry. Defintely contemplate the many ways to torture Ms. Hamilton. "Please wait."

Surprisingly, he did. He faced me, inch by agonizing inch.

"I'm sorry," I said, and I meant it. "You were being nice, and I was rude. It's just, well, this has been a really unfright…" Wait. I didn't want to sound like everyone else. "This has been a really crappy day." Understatement of the year.

He shifted on his feet and studied my face. I'd made him mad—or perhaps I'd hurt his feelings—when I told him to go away, but whatever he saw on my face (depression, frustration, homicidal urges) softened him. "Do you want to get out of here?" he asked.

I blinked. "Out of here, as in, leave _campus_?"

"Yeah."

* * *

**Hmmm, the possibilities, eh? **

**Stay tuned!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	21. Chapter 25

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: Gena Showalter.

* * *

**Thanks for the wonderful comments!**

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**Okay, ONWARDS!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

_You need to wait for Ms. Hamilton…You need to talk to Robb and Erica…He kissed Betty yesterday…_

While my brain listed all the reasons I should stay, my mouth said, "I'd love to leave with you. Yes. Thank you."

"Come on." He turned, a silent command to follow or be left behind, and walked toward his car, an old rusty Dodge Dart.

I fell into step beside him. He was the first good thing to happen to me all day, and I wasn't ready to give that up. So shoot me. (Please. Someone. Anyone.) I realized, surprisingly, I didn't feel stifled with him. Or fake. Or stressed. In this moment, I was just plain, ordinary Cindy—a girl who wanted to spend time with a boy. As a friend. _Only _a friend.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To lunch." His lips curled into a half smile. "Someone once told me the food here sucks."

He remembered. I almost grinned. "How'd you get a pass?"

His smile grew wider. "I didn't."

"You, uh, know this is a closed campus, right?"

"So?" He opened the passenger door for me (how sweet!), and I slid inside. Foam protruded from a myriad of cracks, scratching my skin. I didn't care. Scratches were a least of my worries.

"How do you expect to leave without a pass?" I asked when he eased into his seat.

"You'll see."

Relaxing, I buckled up and settled into the lumpy cushion. Jimmy smelled good, like soap and a hint of motor oil. I could feel the heat of his skin, could even hear the sound of his soft inhalations.

I'd never been this hyperaware of a boy before.

Part of the game, perhaps? If so, the doctor miscalculated the severity of my punishment because I actually _liked _it.

When Jimmy keyed the ignition, heavy metal blasted from the speakers, startling me. God, he had changed _so _much from when I remembered. His grin turned sheepish, and he lowered the volume. "Sorry?" He eased the car into gear. "Do you like Mexican?"

At this point, I would have agreed to eat chocolate-covered ants just to get away from the school. "Love it."

"Good."

A security guard stood at the end of the parking lot, waiting at the only exit. He wore his blue uniform proudly. His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression no-nonsense. I bit my bottom lip. Once I'd tried to leave campus without a pass—and spent an entire month in detention.

Jimmy stopped at the barrier. As he rolled down his window, the scowling guard stalked to the side of the car. His dark mustache made him look all the more menacing.

"Where do you think you're going, boy?"

Jimmy shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "Out."

There was a tension-laden pause. Should I say something? Maybe I could talk the guard into letting us go. I mean, I was the darling of the school now. Why not use the power for something good?

"You plan on coming back?" was the growled response.

Wait. What? I blinked at the guard once, twice.

"I'll be back for next period," Jimmy said, still casual. "Promise."

The guard sighed heavily, losing all hint of his upset. Now he merely appeared wary. "I could be fired for this, you know. God Almighty, you're gonna be the death of me. It's only your second day here."

"The cafeteria food smelled bad."

Another pause, an eye roll. "Fine. Go on, then, but you better not be late for your next class. And you better be careful with the girl. I want her returned in the same condition you left with her or it's my butt they'll flay."

"No problem."

As soon as the barrier was lifted, Jimmy sped onto the street.

"O-kay," I said, turning to stare at the guard through the near window. "Do you have some sort of superpower I don't know about?"

"He's my uncle," Jimmy explained with a laugh. "I live with him now."

"Oh." I shifted toward him. "Must be nice, having someone on the inside."

He snorted. "You make the school sound like a prison. But yeah. I guess it's nice."

The air conditioner seeped out, cool and welcome, and I felt myself sink into the uncomfortable seat. Leaning my head against the window, I gazed out the dusty glass and drank in the tall green trees, the black birds flying overhead. Oh, that I could fly away from this reality.

"So, what's this I hear about you acting weird?" His voice cut through the silence, sliced into my reprieve. "You're all anyone is talking about."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I muttered.

"Try me."

I'd decided not to tell anyone, and I wouldn't again. Not after the incident with Robb and Erica. Jimmy would laugh. He might even accuse me of being wicked insane. I barely believed what had happened myself and I had lived—was living—through it. More than that, I didn't want to think about the game right now. This was my escape from the false reality and I would spoil it.

"So where are you from?" I asked, changing the subject. "And why'd you move here?"

He handled the change without comment. "Well, I used to live here but I recently just came here from Tulsa, but my mom…" His words jammed to an uneasy quiet, and his expression tightened. A moment passed. Then he shrugged, the action stiff. "Sh—we just decided it would be best if I moved up here and stayed with my uncle."

The way he corrected himself, changing "she" to "we" said a lot, and I felt a pang of sympathy for him. I bet he and his mom hadn't agreed it was the best thing for him. I bet _she'd _thought it was the best thing for him.

I couldn't imagine my dad not wanting me with him and actually kicking me out. I understood not wanting to talk about something, though, and didn't press him for more. "Do you work after school?"

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Weekends, I restore cars, motorcycles, that sort of thing. Weekdays, I work on computers. What about you?"

Is this the same boy _genius_ I used to know?

"Nope, no job. My dad wants me to enjoy being a kid before I enter the big bad world of employment. After I graduate, I'm sure I won't be able to get one fast enough to suit him. I want to write, so maybe I'll try to get one at a college paper or something." I shifted in my seat, trying to get a better view of him. "Do you play sports? First time I saw you, I had you pegged as a ball player."

"I did play football. I might play for Haloway, I might not. I haven't decided yet—and not because it's not a very popular sport or anything like that. I just, well…" He hesitated, coughed. "I was kind of kicked off my old team for playing too rough."

The fact that sports weren't popular still gave me a jolt. "I thought you were _supposed _to play rough. That's why everyone wears pads."

He flicked me an amused, you're-so-cute smile. "I never said the rough play was on the field."

I couldn't help but smile in return.

He looked from me to the road, from the road to me, the back to the road again. By the time he stilled, he was frowning, all hints of his amusement gone. "Are you and Nick Dean, like, dating?"

I snorted in self-derision. "Hardly. He and Betty have…" Wait. Most likely here, in _this _messed-up reality, they haven't.

"I seriously doubt someone like Nick would date someone like Bet…ty," he finished lamely. He pressed his lips together, as if he realized he'd said something wrong and wanted to snatch back his words.

My entire body stiffened. Yesterday I'd been the "someone like Betty," I'd been the outcast, the girl everyone hated. Had Jimmy thought about me yesterday? That I wasn't good enough for Nick? Wasn't good enough for him?

"Are you one of those popularity-obsessed guys?" I demanded. "If the girl doesn't hang with a certain crowd, you don't want to date her?"

"God, no," he said, disgusted.

"God, no, you're not popularity-obsessed, or God, no, you wouldn't date an unpopular girl?"

"I'm not popularity obsessed. If I like a girl, I like a girl no matter who she hangs with." His frown deepened, branching lines of tension around his mouth. "What made you think something like that?"

"You said 'someone like Betty.'"

"Nick seems nice. She…doesn't."

I relaxed. A little. "I don't know about a lot about Nick. Betty, well, she has her moments." Mostly moments of pure evil, but there for a minute, in the hallway, I'd glimpsed a more vulnerable side of her. A side _I _had, surprisingly, connected with.

"So you and Nick aren't…" He trailed off.

I shook my head. "No." I admit, I had wanted to date Nick at one time. I'd wanted it more than anything else in the world, in fact. Right now, I couldn't even picture Nick's face in my mind.

It _sooo _wasn't smart to crush on Jimmy like this.

* * *

**Okay, all done.**

**REVIEW!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	22. Chapter 26

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: Gena Showalter.

* * *

**Once again, thanks so much for the great/wonderful reviews. I mean, honestly, 236 reviews? God, I love you guys!**

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**Thanks so much you guys. I _really _appreciate it.**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

Okay. There. I'd stopped pretending I didn't like him as more than a friend. I was crushing.

_Hard._

"He talks like you're a couple," Jimmy paused.

"Well, he's wrong. And when did you talk to him? What did he say?"

"I talked to him this morning, during third period, and he said you guys were…you know. _More_ than friends. Friends with major benefits."

I gasped, horrified. "I have never _slept _with him!" I paused, a thought hitting me. "Is that why you're taking me out for lunch? Because you think I'm _easy_?"

Jimmy scowled. "You begged me to bring you, remember? And I don't think you're easy. I don't even know you. But I want to. Know you, that is," he added darkly. "Is that a crime?"

Crime? No. Dream come true? Yes. Had any boy ever said something like that to me? Hell no. I lost my animosity, and a bubble of excitement expanded in my chest. He just, well, he sounded genuinely interested in me. Me!

_The real you or the fake you? _my mind chirped in. My excitement dimmed a little, and I gritted my teeth in annoyance. Thanks a lot, mind. It would have been nice to enjoy the moment.

I twisted the frayed fabric of my jeans between my fingers. "What about you? Are you dating anyone?"

"Nope." He paused, ran his bottom lip between his teeth. "Not yet."

O-kay. What did that mean? His husky tone suggested he someone in mind. Me? Probably. But I didn't have courage to ask. I mean, this could be one of those moments where he wanted me to ask my friend if _she _liked him. In this case, that would mean he was interested in Avery. Gag.

I didn't like the girl enough to play her date pimp.

"We're here." He eased into a gravel lot and parked beside a white sedan. "I hope you're hungry."

As I exited, midday heat enveloped me. I hated how the weather could be freezing cold one day and blistering hot the next. Tomorrow it would probably rain. Or snow.

We walked side by side to the small, cozy brownstone situated between several other brownstones. Jimmy was taller than me by several inches, and I felt tiny in comparison.

He opened the door for me, like we were on a real date. I gave him a half smile, swept past him—and froze.

Jimmy bumped into my back, and I stumbled forward.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"They're…they're…" I said, while inside I was screaming _no _at the top of my lungs.

"Yeah?"

Goth. Everyone was a fake Goth, just like at school. The waiters. The people eating. There was even a toddler draped in black crepe. Black, black, and more black, mixed with the occasional splash of blood-red. The lights were dimmed for atmosphere. The walls were mere shadows.

"We have to leave," I told Jimmy, speaking past the sudden lump in my throat.

His hand settled on top of my shoulder. The heat of him soothed, but failed to comfort me completely. "Why?"

"I just, I have to leave, that's all." I didn't wait for his reply. I swung around and raced out the door, into the safety of the car. Was the entire world Goth? Would there be no safe haven from this sea of uniformity?

Expression somehow soft and hard at the same time, Jimmy strode toward the car, his hands in his pockets. When he sat beside me, he jabbed the key into the ignition and said, "I'm not going to ask what that was because I have a feeling you won't answer me."

"You're right."

"I'm starved though. Is there any place you _will _eat?"

"Have you heard of Café Giovanni?"

"No."

I rattled off the address, hoping with all my heart it would be just as I remembered it. I could handle Goth there. It was expected. Familiar.

During the ten-minute drive, Jimmy did his best to make me laugh by cracking jokes about all the different "Barbies" he'd encountered at Hell High. "Divorced Barbie a.k.a. Ms. Hamilton," he said, "comes with Ken's house, Ken's car, and Ken's entire wardrobe."

A twinge of amusement seeped past my upset. "I guess that means the Teen Barbie a.k.a. Betty will come with a back-stabbing knife." I said dryly.

He barked out a laugh, and the sound of it was somehow…enchanting. "We're here," he said, a little nervously. Did he expect me to run this time, too?

The car eased to a stop. We quickly exited, crossed the paved but crumbling parking lot, and descended the metal stairs. Once again, he pushed open the restaurant door and I swept past him.

"I hope this--- No," I said on a gasp. My gaze circled the one place that used to welcome me with open arms. No, no, no. No!

It seemed this, my refuge, was to be denied me, too. Gone were the black walls and vampire posters. The familiarity I'd needed. Now the entire place resembled something out of _Seventeen_. Colorful walls with swirling designs. Pop music _bump, bumping _from speakers. A stoke light. Waitresses on Rollerblades.

Count was behind the bar. He wore a white button-up shirt and his hair was cut in a short buzz. He smiled at a customer, and I saw his teeth were normal, not shaved to razor-sharp fangs. His gaze moved across the room and paused on me. He frowned.

"Take me home," I said softly to Jimmy. "_Please. _Just take me home."

* * *

**Pretty intense chapter huh? Poor Cindy, needing to go through all this pain and misery. Oh well, keep an eye out for the next chapter.**

**Something _good _might happen. Just a hint.**

**REVIEW please.**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	23. Chapter 27

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: Gena Showalter.

* * *

**Thanks so much for ALL the reviews you guys.**

**Just, wow thanks.**

**Anyways, I'm going to get right on to the story but I _promise _that I'll reply back to you next chapter.**

**PROMISE!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

Life seriously _sucked_!

At home, I paced the length of my bedroom. Posters of dragons, dark fairies, and Enya hung on the walls and whizzed past me. Back and forth, back and forth. A black comforter edged in lace draped the bed. I'd saved my lunch money and bought it without my dad's permission, replacing the Disney one I'd had since childhood.

Jimmy—who hadn't said another word after that last disaster—had dropped me off here and returned to school. He probably thought I was weird.

Yes. Life definitely sucked.

My dad was gone—I don't know where he was, he hadn't left a note—so I was alone. I'd left my key at school and had to ask the neighbor, who had a spare, to let me inside.

So here I was. Alone, like I'd wanted, but just as miserable as before.

A Sidekick that wasn't mine lay on the nightstand, and it rang continuously. I pounded on it for a few minutes. When that didn't shut it up, I drop-kicked it out the window.

Desperate to get back to real life, I searched through the phone book for Ms. Hamilton's home number and address. Of course, she wasn't listed. Neither was Dr. Laroque. I had no luck with Google, either.

I did find Betty's number and called her up. She was still at school, so I left a message on her machine, tell her to for sure pick me up later. We had to find the laboratory.

Left. Right. Left. I placed one foot in front of the other. Right. Left. Each of my walls was a different color: yellow, light blue, emerald, and violet. Every time I turned, I saw a blurring, different shade. And every time I passed my room's only window, I saw the Jetta that sat in immobile in the driveway. I didn't want to wait for Betty. I wanted to drive around right now and search. But…

I couldn't force myself to get behind the wheel.

"Coward," I muttered to my reflection as I passed my full-length mirror. I stomped my boots into the plush brown carpet. Dr. Laroque and Ms. Hamilton, damn them, had reached into the deepest recesses of my subconscious, found the absolute worst way to punish me, and shoved it in my face on a silver platter. Conformity. Sameness. Lack of originality.

My mom had hated it, too. She hadn't been Goth or anything like that. She'd been Julia Vortex, an identical twin who'd wanted to make her own place in the world. She'd painted all the walls in our house a different color so none of them would look the same. Like my room. "Isn't this better?" she'd said. "Now we'll always know which is which."

I missed her _so _much.

Tears burned the rims of my eyes, and I quickly brushed them away. No time for an emotional breakdown. I needed a plan of action, and as I continued to stalk from one side of my room to the other, I outlined what I'd already done and what I needed to do: Talk to Betty—done. Look for Ms. Hamilton—in progress. Look for the devil's laboratory—tonight. Then…what? What if I couldn't find Hammy and the lab had been moved? What if—

No! I couldn't allow myself to think like that. I _would _find a way home. I _had _to. If I had to pay someone to cast a magic spell or bargain with the Devil himself, I would get home.

What about Jimmy?

I bit my bottom lip. Sure, it'd be nice having his attention for a bit longer, but I'd rather have it as _me_. Unpopular, despised me. Not that he liked me now. Not anymore. I'd probably ruined that at lunch. "Moron," I muttered.

The rest, well, I could totally live without. No (real) friends. A dad who liked me for the wrong reasons. The counterfeit obsession of my peers.

_Briiiing._

Startled by the sudden noise, I jumped. _Briiiing! _When my heartbeat stilled, I padded on the side table. _Briiiing! _Caller ID said. White, Linda. Ohmygod. Linnie! Hope sparked to life insde me. She'd called. She'd really called me. Maybe she didn't hate me like the others. I didn't know how she'd managed to retain her true memories when no one else had, and I didn't care.

She'd called!

_Briiiing! _Grinning, I hurriedly picked up the receiver. "Hello."

For a long while, she didn't respond. Then she cleared her throat. "Can I, uh, speak with Cindy?"

"You are. Thank God! Linnie, I'm _so _glad you called."

Another pause. Crackling static. "What are you doing home? You're supposed to be at school."

"I came home early. Listen, you have no idea how much I need a friend right now. I've had the worst day ever." I sucked in a breath. "I need you to read your cards. Something's happened and I'm hoping they'll…"

"I was going to leave a message," she said, cutting me off, "but I guess we can do this live."

In that instant, my hope frayed at the edges. She sounded so formal and stiff, so determined. "Do what?" I said, my shoulders slumping. Please let her be my friend, I prayed.

"I don't like the way you treated my friends today."

_My _friends, she'd said. As in—you're not one of us, Cindy. "I did nothing wrong. And how do you know how I treated them?" I asked sternly. "You weren't even at school."

"Robb called me and told me how you yelled at Betty in the hall. How you tried to turn her against him. He told me how you pretended to be in some virtual game at lunch." Her voice rose with the heat of her anger. "You'd better watch yourself. We're tired of your reign of terror and if you aren't careful someone is going to shove you off your pedestal."

"Linnie, will you listen to yourself? I haven't don't _anything _wrong!"

She laughed bitterly. "God, you're amazing. You'll say anything and blame anyone to make yourself appear innocent."

"Name something I've done. Name one thing." What kind of fake memory had the doctor given her? I found myself wondering, again, if the people in this game were even real or merely figments meant to torment me. Like ghosts. Unreal, phantoms. Apparitions my brain insisted were real, so therefore they became real to me.

"I can't believe I'm even talking to you," she ground out. "You want me to name something? Fine. How about the time you Photoshopped Erica's face on a porn star's body and pasted the pictures all over school?"

I gasped. "That wasn't me. That was Betty."

She snorted. "What about the time you poured juice over my head? Or the time you told Robb to pick you up and had your boyfriend waiting for him instead?" With every word she uttered, her upset grew. Once her voice even cracked, like she was fighting tears. "Shall I go on?"

Her words echoed in my head, and I suddenly felt like I was trapped in a small box, no air holes. Everything she'd name, Betty had done. Not me. Never me. I didn't know how to convince her of that, didn't know how to convince her of the truth. And that scared me. "Linnie, I never did those things."

"I suppose it was your other personality then. Or maybe the voices in your head made you do it."

"You don't understand. You're my friend, Linnie. My best friend. I would never do anything like that to you."

She snorted. "You're a bitch and a liar. I'd never—never!—be your friend."

"Linnie. Please. Listen to me. I…"

"Shut up. Shut the hell up."

"Linnie, _please. _Ask Betty." I'd said I wouldn't try and explain to anyone else. Not again. But here I was, unable to stop myself and desperate to make her believe me. "She'll tell you. We're stuck in a game. I swear to God."

"That's funny, because she was laughing about you and your claim when I talked to her. Care to explain that?"

She _laughed_? Betty had laughed about the game? I scraped my nails over the surface of my desk. That bitch. "You have to remember…"

"Do me a favor. Go to hell." _Click._

* * *

**Yeah, that's it for this long ass of chapter.**

**So intense, I know. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing everyone.**

**Keep it up!**

**Ashley**


	24. Chapter 28

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: Gena Showalter.

* * *

**Thanks again for the great reviews everyone!**

**Phantomphan – I love that word too! No way! Haha, yes that would suck also. Thanks!**

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**Acosta – You're definitely onto the right track! Thanks!**

**Thanks again everyone!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

_**What is the meaning of life? I think I know the answer. Happiness. I think we're all supposed to take over our fair share of it and help others find theirs—whether that's in the light or the dark. When will the rest of the world get the memo?**_

Disbelieving, I stared at the phone for a long while. She'd been so adamant in her hatred toward me, more so than the others. With that realization, horrible thoughts began to sweep through me. What if the virtual reality game had merely allowed Linnie's real feelings to surface? What then?

Had all my friends secretly hated me? I wondered, paranoid now.

For the first time in our entire six-year friendship, Linnie had hung up on me. She'd refused to listen, had defended Betty. Betty Quinlan of all people.

With a defeated breath, I replaced the phone in its cradle. I had no idea what to do about my friends, and I wasn't given a chance to think about it. I heard the front door swing open, heard my dad stroll inside the house, whistling under his breath. Great. I wasn't ready to deal with him and didn't want to explain why I'd ditched. There was no help for it, though. It had to be done.

"Dad," I called.

"Cindy?" Surprise layered his voice.

I abandoned the safety of my room and strode into the hallway. He met me halfway, his expression dark and curiosity.

"Where were you?" I asked at the same time he said, "Why are you home from school?"

I racked my brain for a good reason, but nothing came to me. Finally I shrugged and opted for the truth. "I needed some alone time."

"Oh. Okay." Without another word, he turned and padded into the kitchen.

That's it? No, "You can't take a break from life, so why should you be allowed to take a break from school?" No, "Do you think you'll be able to ditch your job when you have a family to feed?"

Open mouthed, I followed the same path he had taken. "That's all you have to say to me?"

"Yes." He thumbed through the mail. "You're a smart girl, and I trust your judgment. If you needed a day off, you needed a day off."

"But, dad. I ditched."

"I know, sweetie, but you had a good reason."

When I got over my shock, my mouth curled in a slow smile. Okay. So. There were two things I liked about this Gothy otherworld. The way Jimmy looked at me, and my dad's new and improved attitude about ditching. "Sweetie" didn't even bother me this time.

Those reasons weren't enough to make me want to stay in this reality, but…They were oh so sweet, and I desperately needed a silver lining.

My dad cast me a quick glance and set the mail on the counter. "I've got to make a call, so…"

"So," I prompted.

"So. It's private."

I remained in place, watching him, studying his face. His lips pressed into a firm line, and I sighed. "Fine. I'll be in my room." I spun on my heel and tromped into the hall, then opened and closed my bedroom door—without going inside. I remained in the hall. He needed privacy? What for? He and I were not supposed to keep secrets from each other. That's what he'd once told me, at least.

I leaned against the cold wall, straining to listen. "We'll have to do it another day," I heard him say. Pause. "I'm sorry." Another pause. "I wanted to see you, too, but something's going on with Cindy, and she really needs me right now."

Questions poured through my mind. Who had he planned to meet? A woman? Why was he so secretive about it? Was he dating someone special? In the two years since my mom's death, he'd only dated casually. Nothing serious. He'd never brought a woman house for me to meet, but I always knew when he scored (gag). He smiled for days afterward (double gag).

He ended the call, and I padded quietly into my room, shutting the door behind me with only the slightest snicker from the hinges.

I didn't like this new development.

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**Wow, two chapters in about a day in a half! Yay me! Well, I'm going to be gone this weekend but maybe I can put one more up tomorrow night.**

**Just, maybe.**

**BUT, you guys HAVE to review!**

**Thanks!**

**Ashley**


	25. Chapter 29

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: Gena Showalter.

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**Okay, no time for reviewing today people. Let's get right to it! Thanks for the reviews though!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

The hours until nightfall dragged by, tortuous, one after the other. I stayed in my room the entire time. My dad even brought dinner to my door. I tried to write, but no words formed. Writing had always been my greatest refuge. Now, when I needed it most…I sighed in frustration and anger. I think, in that moment, I would have partied with Mr. Suneson if it meant being able to write again.

With nothing else to do, I alternated between pacing and lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Thinking, always thinking. No matter how many times I sorted through the questions about my dad, about my virtual reality game, about Jimmy, about my friends, no answers were fourthcoming. My dad's secret phone call--mystery. A way out of the game—mystery. Jimmy's real thoughts about me—mystery. A way to convince my friends they really loved me—mystery.

And I freaking hated mysteries!

What the hell time was it now?

I glanced at the clock on my computer for the thousandth time and pushed out a relieved breath. Couldn't be much longer now. 11:05 P.M. Lying on the softness of the mattress, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and fingered my dad's pocketknife. I'd taken it. Just in case. I only prayed I _didn't _need to use it.

Moonlight slithered past my curtains, crimson mixed with gold. What time would Betty get here? Had she even gotten my message? I was going crazy waiting for her to pick me up so we could search for the lab.

And who would have thought I'd ever look forward to _her _presence?

A knock sounded at my door. I inwardly groaned and rolled my eyes. My dad had come in here four times already, only to be met with an inquisition and glaring. Never give up until you have the desired results, was his motto.

"What do you want now?" I called.

"It's a school night, sweetie. You should be in bed."

"I'm not tired."

Heavy pause. Then, "Are you decent?"

"Yes," I admitted reluctantly. Just go away! I thought. I wore army fatigues and a black shirt so I'd better blend into the night. I hope he didn't question me about it. Where was Betty?

My dad peeked his dark head past the door, expression somber, serious. "I want to talk to you."

"Fine. Let's start with where you were when I got home and who you canceled your secret plans with."

The question had driven him away the other four times. Not this time, though. Unfortunately. "That's not important," he said, coming into the room and easing onto the edge of the bed.

"If you want to talk about me, you're wasting your time. You have your secrets and I have mine," I said.

"Honey, I'm just trying to understand what's going on with you. I've never seen you behave this way."

My brows furrowed together. "What way?"

"So…" He spread his arms wide, encompassing me, my room. "So unpredictable."

"Dad, you wouldn't believe me if…"

A _clang clang _rattled my window, saving me from the rest of my reply. A part of me wanted to tell him the truth, wanted his help. The other part of me knew what would happen if I did. Disbelief. Drug testing. Maybe even laughter. No, I'd learn my lesson. Twice. I wasn't telling anyone else.

_Clang. Clang._

I glanced at the glass. So did my dad. He frowned. "Is someone out there?" he asked, an ominous edge to the words.

I strode to the glass and glanced out, my shoulders slumping in relief. Thank God. "It's Betty."

"Betty Quinlan?" His frown deepened, pulling the skin around his lips taut. "Does Sus—her mom know she's out this late?"

"Does it matter?" I signaled that I'd be out in a minute, and Betty nodded in understanding. She trekked back to her car, a pale slash in the moonlight.

My dad ignored my question—he was getting good at that. "You aren't hanging out with her, are you? She's not your usual type of friend."

"So?" I rushed to my closet and skimmed through my clothes, looking for my jacket.

"I don't want you around her, Cindy," he said sternly. "She's trouble."

"I'll be fine."

Always the solider, he tried another tactic. "This is a school night. You need to stay in."

"If you're worried I won't get enough sleep, don't. If I have to miss school tomorrow to catch up on my z's, I will. I know when I need a day off, remember?" I grabbed my purse and shoes.

"Cindy…"

"You don't have to worry about my—what did you call it that day you gave me the sex talk?—flower, either. Betty will keep her hands to herself."

"That's not funny." Eyes slitted, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't want you going out this late at night. Dangerous people are out there, on the prowl for innocent young girls."

"We'll be careful. Promise. You know I love the night."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're staying here, young lady, and that's final."

"I can't. I'm sorry. I have to go." I hated pissing him off, I really did. He wasn't a bad guy. However, I soothed myself with the thought that Betty and I would find the lab and the computers and whisk ourselves out of the game. Tomorrow my dad wouldn't remember that I'd disobeyed him.

"I want you to stay home," he said, using his toughest "dad voice". "I'm not asking. I'm telling."

"I'll see you later. Don't wait up." I kissed his cheek and raced out of my room, out of the house.

"Cindy," he called, incredulous.

Cool night air brushed my face, and the car's bright lights made me squint. I loved this time of night. Shadows danced freely, and stars winked from a perch of black velvet. Insects hummed lazily.

"Cindy, get back here," my dad shouted.

Heart racing, I slid into the blue sedan. I'd never been so blatant in my disobedience. "Floor it," I commanded Betty.

She did. Tired squealed and rocks flew from the back tires as we backed up and onto the road. We sped away. My stomach clenched, and I closed my eyes. My dad and his anger were forgotten, replaced by my fear of fast cars.

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**Just so everyone gets an idea, I have 129 pages worth of chapters to go. Haha, yeah, that's just great. Anyways, read and reviews!**

**Thanks again,**

**Ashley**


	26. Chapter 30

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: Gena Showalter.

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**Thanks for the reviews everyone!**

**Darkbunny92 – Libby's not in this story and Betty does know what happened. She was just being an idiot and said she didn't.**

**Phantom – Haha, don't you hate when that happens? Thanks!**

**Midnight – Aw, thanks!**

**Stay-Away – Will do!**

**Snowboarder – Thanks!**

**Acosta – Wow, good observation. You're very close.**

**Blackmonday – Haha, thanks!**

**XxDoCxX – Ha, thanks. I'll definitely need it.**

**Okay, STORY TIME!**

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"**Oh My Goth!"**

"What took you so long?" Betty demanded. "I had to wait for, like, _ever_."

"You waited two minutes. What took _you _so long to come get me?"

"Your dumb friends kept calling me. They even came over to my house."

Jealousy sparked to instant life. She dismissed them casually, while I would have done anything to have them like me again. "They aren't dumb. Got it?"

"Whatever." Finally, when we were a safe distance away, Betty slowed down.

I glared over at her. "Why did you laugh when Erica and Robb told you I'd told them about the game? Why did you laugh about it to Linnie?"

"I didn't know what else to say, all right? They were laughing about you and I didn't want them to laugh at me, too. Besides, I thought we agreed not to tell anyone." She shot me a frown.

I didn't reply.

"Think your dad will come looking for us?" she asked.

"No."

"My dad would have chased after me."

There was a defensive edge to her voice this time. "I thought he'd taken off a few years ago," I said.

She popped her jaw, but offered no response.

I cast a glance in her direction, and shook my head in puzzlement. She was dressed in a light green tank top (with lace) and a miniskirt (with lace at the hem.) Green high heels were anchored to her feet and laced up her calves. "That's what you're wearing? Seriously? What if we have to break in?"

"Here's a free fashion tip: there's nothing wrong with looking good, no matter the circumstances." She gave me a brief once-over. "You really need to consider that."

My jaw clenched. There was nothing wrong with my clothes and nothing wrong with my appearance. If we _did _have to do a little B and E, I could climb, run, and move without restriction. She'd fall on her face. Amusing, yes, but it wouldn't get us home.

"So…" she said. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. "Has Avery said anything about me?"

"No." Nothing good, that is. I didn't have to ask if Linnie and Erica had said anything about me. She'd already admitted they'd been laughing about me.

"What if we can't get home, Cindy?" she asked suddenly. There was a raw quality to her voice I'd never heard from her before.

"We will." We had to.

"You say that so confidently." She sounded stronger, more like her normal self with every word. "What do you think? We'll find the lab, and _boom_—everything will be the same as it was?"

I traced a finger across the dusty window, leaving a line. "Maybe." I could hope, at least.

"Do you even remember where the lab is?" Frowning, she tunneled a hand through her pale hair. The car eased to a stop at a forked intersection, and she looked left, then right.

"Kind of," I hedged.

"Kind of?" She pinned me with a glare. "That doesn't help at all."

"I don't know the exact address. You don't either, so zip it. You're heading in the right direction, though. North on Western."

She eased the car left, mumbling, "Let's hope we know it when we see it."

One hour, three wrong turns and multiple shouting matches later, we found it. Excitement thrummed through me when I spotted the tall, brown brick building, still crumbling and covered in graffiti. There were no cars in the lot tonight. No lights or lampposts to illuminate the area.

For once, I didn't like the dark.

Betty parked in front and gazed at the building with trepidation. "It's creepy, I don't remember it looking _this _creepy."

I agreed. I knew what was inside, had experienced terror in there, and did not look forward to a repeat experience. Just being here, I felt exposed and vulnerable.

Betty cut the engine, and totally silence blanketed us. She switched off the car lights, and total darkness consumed us. Every horror movie I'd ever watched played through my mind. I gulped.

"Should we, like, go in?" All hint of superiority had washed from her tone. She oozed fear.

"Yes?" I'd meant the word as a statement, but it emerged as a question.

"Okay," she said.

"Okay," I repeated.

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**Haha, HUGE CLIFFY! Sorry, but it's a great place to stop. **

**Read and review everyone!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	27. Chapter 31

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: _Gena Showalter._

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**Thank you guys for the flipping AWESOME reviews you gave me!**

**But, I gotta go like in 5 minutes so I'll reply back next chapter for SURE!**

**Going to Boston tomorrow. YAY!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

Neither of us moved. I think a little demon had taken residence inside my chest and was using my heart for drum practice. I'd brought my dad's pocketknife, but all of a sudden it didn't seem like enough protection.

"I brought my Sidekick," she said. "Maybe we should call someone. Or e-mail the police so they can read it after they find our dead, bloody bodies and know where to start looking for our killer."

"We need inside that building, and I doubt the police will help us do that. We can do this ourselves." I drew in a deep breath, forced my hand on the car door handle, and opened the door. A cool breeze wafted inside, scented with…danger? The small hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, and I felt a pair of eyes boring into me. Watching.

My blood chilled.

"What if people are inside?" she whispered.

I gulped down the lump that had beaded in my throat. "They aren't," I forced myself to say. _I'm not being watched, I'm not being watched._

"How can you be so sure? They could be inside, waiting for us. Maybe they wanted us to come so they could put us inside another game. A _worse _game."

I gripped the edge of the door, unable to tear my eyes from the building. Stay strong. Stay calm. We were alone, I assured myself, the only people in the vicinity. "You're hysterical, Betty. Do I need to slap you?"

She inhaled sharply, then exhaled a shaky, unsteady puff of air. "You're such a bitch. You know that?"

"It's sweet of you to notice," I said with a false, sugar-sweet tone.

"So what are you waiting for?" She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "An engraved invitation? Get the rest of the way out, shut the car door, and go inside."

I flashed her a scowl and stood. Another breeze trickled past, the night air coiling around me. It did little to soothe the nervous sweat pearling on my skin.

Betty remained in her seat. She looked from me to the building, the building to me. "I'll wait here and keep the car running. That way, we can make a fast getaway if we need to."

Yeah, like I'd really leave her out here to drive away without me. Since my door was still open, I leaned into the car, grabbed the keys from the ignition, and stuffed them into my pocket.

She gasped. "Give those back."

"Come and get them." I slammed my car door shut. The loud thump echoed in my ears, and I cringed. I scanned the parking lot nervously, still feeling that invisible gaze on me and halfway expecting someone to jump from the shadows, screaming, "Boo!"

_Just your imagination, Cindy, _I told myself.

"Fine." Betty exited and stomped to the trunk. She raised it and dug inside, withdrawing two flashlights. "Here." She tossed one at me.

I barely managed to catch it. "Thanks." I hadn't expected her to do something so intelligent—or considerate, since she'd brought two. I guess even festering wounds that plagued humanity could have moments of greatness.

Gravel crunched as she closed the distance between us until she finally stood at my side. I noticed she was shaking, her entire body radiating plumes of fear. Did mine?

I raised my chin. "Let's do this."

Inch by tortuous inch, we approached the building (a.k.a. hell). The front door, of course, was locked, as were the two closest windows. One, of which, was boarded.

"We'll have to break the glass." Nibbling on my lip, I peeked inside. Only darkness greeted me, so much thicker and more oppressive than the darkness outside.

"What if we set off an alarm?" she whispered.

"We run like hell, hide and wait."

"But…"

"It's a chance we have to take." We were here, and no one had jumped us. We weren't leaving until we'd searched every inch of the building. I bent down, flashing my light over the flower bed as I rummaged for a large rock. "We're getting inside _tonight_. No matter what."

She swallowed audibly and crouched beside me. "Just so you know," she said without heat, "when this is over we are _so _not friends."

"I'm glad we're on the same page." Bitch. "You do realize you're the reason there are drug addicts at our school, right? People will do anything to escape the reality of you."

She drew in a sharp—dare I say hurt?—breath, and I felt a rush of guilt. "Your jealousy is showing," she snapped.

"I'm not jealous of you." I popped my jaw, trying to tamp down my anger. All sense of guilt abandoned me. "I pity you."

"Ha! You liked Nick Dean, but he didn't want you. You liked Jimmy—and don't try to deny it because I saw the way you were looking at him—but he didn't like you back, either. Both of them wanted me. _Me_."

"Not anymore they don't." My fingers curled around a medium-size, jagged rock. I hefted it in my palm and stood. I ground my teeth together and bit the inside of my cheek until I drew blood. Hearing those words— "he didn't like you back –stung. Hard core.

"Like that means anything," she muttered. "You know they don't like the real you."

"I'm the same girl I was before," I replied, even though I'd thought those very words myself.

"They like your popularity. Your _fake _popularity."

She always knew the exact thing to say to wound me.

Without another word, I launched the rock at the window. Glass shattered, raining and tinkling onto the ground. I stood, waiting, locked in place. Ready to run. Thankfully, no alarm erupted.

"Give me some warning next time," Betty grumbled. She tossed her flashlight through the opening, illuminating the room in a golden glow.

I did the same. "Hopefully there won't be a next time."

"Whatever. Give me a boost."

I bent my knees and locked my hands together, and she used me as a spring, climbing easily inside. Her high heel dug into my skin, and I grimaced. Surprisingly, she leaned out and offered me a hand, pulling me up.

"Thank you," I forced myself to say.

We each grabbed a flashlight, but neither of us moved forward. We shined our light over our surroundings. Disappointment. Regret. Anger. I experienced all three.

"It's empty," Betty said on a moan. "Everything is the same—the walls, the room, but no equipment!"

"This is only one office." I had to stay positive or I'd do something stupid. Like cry. "It doesn't mean anything."

"What if…"

"Don't say it. Don't even think it. The equipment has to be here. Somewhere." My words echoed off the bare walls, hopeful, desperate.

Clutching the light in an iron fist, I kicked at the locked door, once, twice. I had no luck, so Betty joined in. On our third kick, wood splintered from the hinges and opened up into another room. We looked at each other, then held our flashlights forward.

Empty.

My stomach twisted painfully.

"Cindy," she said, her voice shaky.

"I know," I replied, just as shaky. Just as upset. We explored the place from top to bottom. Papers were scattered across the floor, but that was it. Nothing else. I glanced over them, seeing only gibberish. Numbers, symbols, letters. I stuffed as many of the papers as I could into my pockets. But...

It wasn't what I'd hoped.

Where were the computers? The machines? I swung around, shaking my head in disbelief. In horror.

"How did they move the equipment so quickly?" Betty shouted. She was no longer trying to be quiet. "They took everything!"

"They couldn't have moved it far. We'll find it."

"How?" she demanded.

"I don't know." I crisscrossed my arms over my middle, my gaze still searching as I tamped down my panic.

"We're stuck here," she said, voicing my fears. "Just say it. We're stuck in this hellish nightmare of a reality."

"If there's a way in, there's a way out. We'll talk with Ms. Hamilton." Even to my own ears, the words were lame.

"Do you really expect _her_ to help us? Tell me you're not that stupid, Cindy. She's the one who signed us up for this. She's probably left the country by now. Who knows? She might not even be part of the game."

I couldn't accept defeat. I couldn't accept what had been done to us without a fight. There had to be another way out.

There just _had_ to.

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**OH MY MOTHER FING HANDS! Sorry for the rude language haha. My bad!**

**REVIEW AND I'LL UPDATE FASTER!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	28. Chapter 32

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget.

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: _Gena Showalter._

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**Thanks SO much for the reviews you guys!**

**Jimlover54 – Thanks!**

**Snowboarder – Will do for sure. Ha, thanks so much!**

**Starrlite – Wow, thank you unbelievably so much. You're way too nice! Thanks! By the way, you're definitely onto something if you know what I mean.**

**Acosta – Thanks again, as always.**

**XxDoCxX – Ha, exactly what I wanted you guys to think. Yes, teenagers these days are very ignorant and they focus so much on their problems that they don't realize how stupid they are when the solution to the problem is right in front of their faces.**

**Okay, onwards!**

**

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**

"**Oh My Goth!"**

" 

"She _is _part of the game. Everyone still knows her at school. We _will _find her and force her to help us." I said to her.

Betty laughed that bitter laugh of hers. "The chances of finding her are about as good as us finding the computers in this empty building."

"She has to show up sometime," I said, determined.

"Why? We don't know how the game works. This isn't _real_ life. She might know everything we plan. She might be able to come in and out at will, always staying a step ahead of us."

My stomach rolled at the thought.

"We're stuck here," she repeated. "Stuck like_ this_." Her hand waved to me, then over herself. "Stuck with you as the darling of the school, and me as an outcast. A _freak_." Her voice broke and tears streamed down her eyes, streaking her perfect makeup. "You're the freak, _not_ me."

"Okay. That's it." I closed the small distance between us, putting us nose-to-nose—a familiar position for us. Place us in the same room and we were like animals fighting over territory, I guess. We forgot about our situation, forgot why we were there, and allowed the past to consume us. "Stop calling me names. Do you hear me? Stop it. You've done if for years and I'm sick of it!"

"Get out of my face." She pushed me.

I stumbled backward, righted myself, then pushed her back. "I want to get home just as much as you do."

"You're adored here. I wouldn't doubt if you warned Dr. Laroque we were coming so he could move the equipment."

I gasped. "I never warned him."

"You _love_ it here, admit it."

"I'm adored, yes, but I'm also a clone. One of the crowd, and there's nothing that sets me apart."

"So," she spat.

_So_? I glared at her, incredulous. She really didn't get it.

"You're not a freak now. You can't tell me you liked that."

"I didn't, no. I _hate_ being called a freak, but I'd rather be a freak then invisible. When you blend into the crowd, Betty, you're nothing special. You're one of a thousand others. You have no real value."

"Uh, I hate to break it to you, but _you _blend with _your_ friends. You all love weird, stupid things. And hello, you don't have to be different to be special." She shook her head. "Who fed you that line of crap?"

I shoved her again, harder this time, and she fell back with a gasp, tripping on her heels. She stayed down, glowering at me. "Do you know what my mom's last words were to me?" I growled. "Our car had flipped and stayed upside down. Her blood was dripping on me as she died and do you know what her last words were? _Do you?_" I was screaming toward the end, but couldn't stop myself.

"No," Betty croaked.

I knew the words by heart. I'd memorized them, replayed them a thousand times. "'There are two kinds of people,' she'd said. 'Those who coast through life like ducks in a row, following one after the other, and those who ride the waves.'"

Tears spilled down my cheeks, and my voice cracked. "'Ride the waves, baby, and live. Live.'"

Silence.

"I choose to live, Betty. Okay? I choose to be me, to be different than everyone else. To stand out. When she looks down at me, she'll know exactly who I am. Do you understand now? Do you get it?"

"Cindy," Betty began, but whatever else she was going to say was cut off when red-and-blue lights flashed through the windows, almost like a strobe.

My focus whipped to the side. So did hers.

"Come out with your hands up," a deep, male voice commanded.

* * *

**Wow, wicked huge cliffy. Haha, sorry everyone! There will be another new chapter tomorrow for sure! **

**Thanks so much everyone! **

**Read and review please!**

**Thanks again,**

**Ashley**


	29. Chapter 33

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget.

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: _Gena Showalter._

* * *

**Once again everyone, thank you so SO much for the great reviews.**

**I mean, honestly, 299 reviews? Wow, it's amazing!**

**THANKS SO MUCH!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

_**I think the great Caption Kirk once said, "Why can't we all just get along?" Wait. Maybe that was Tiny Tim. Either way, it seems like an impossible dream.**_

Frisked, cuffed, and helped into a police car.

Sound fun? Exciting? Adventurous? It's not.

They confiscated the papers I'd stuffed into my pockets, and even took my pocketknife.

"Dr. Laroque hooked us to a computer and now we're inside a virtual reality game," Betty blurted out as she was shoved in beside me. "We just want to go home."

Several policemen laughed. I glared at her, silently commanding her to close her freaking mouth. All her words would get us was a psych exam.

"I'm serious," she whimpered.

"No, you're begging to be tested for drug use," one of the cops said. "Now shut up."

Thankfully she did.

We were driven downtown, and neither of us spoke a word to the other. My emotions were still too raw. Maybe hers were, too. One of the officers informed us that we'd tripped a silent alarm when we busted the window and the owner—Dr. John Laroque—had called them.

We hadn't been read our rights or anything like that, and weren't actually being arrested. The owner, apparently, declined to press charges—the first and only nice thing Dr. Laroque had done for us. I could only hope guilt was eating him alive like a flesh-eating bacteria.

Would nothing go right today?

At the bustling station, I noticed the criminals being booked and processed were dressed liked Barbie clones, wearing conservative pastels and tidy button-downs and slacks. The male police officers, I realized in the light, wore black eyeliner and sported multiple tattoos.

The switch was startling.

Betty and I were locked in a small, bland room that offered nothing more than thick, musky air, a scarred table, and a few unpadded chairs. We were escorted to opposite ends of the table and uncuffed.

Leaning back, I stretched out my legs and sighed. The officers left us then, one of them muttering, "Be good. We'll be watching from the two-way."

"This is all _your _fault," Betty said the moment the door closed.

My mouth opened and closed with a snap. "My fault?"

"You're bad luck, obviously."

"Ever stop and consider the possibility that _you _might be the bad luck charm in this relationship?"

Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. "You could have helped me out and told them what happened to us."

"Like you helped me with my friends? They could have locked us both away, Betty. What then, huh?"

Mutinous, she turned away from me and faced the wall.

The clock ticked away the ensuing hour of silence. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat a thousand times, my nerves so frayed they threatened to break apart at any moment. I was thirsty, tired, stressed, disappointed, and frustrated. Not a good combination.

Where was my dad?

Finally, hinges squeaked as the door glided open. A police-man I didn't recognize stepped inside. He had bright, bottle-red hair, and white doughnut powder around his mouth. Some things never changed, I guess.

"Your parents are here, girls." He dripped with disapproval, as if we should have been left here to rot. "They'd like to talk to you."

Betty paled. I'm sure I did, too. My dad was going to kill me. There'd be none of this "pick your own punishment" or "no TV for you" this time around, even as nice as he'd been lately.

The officer stepped aside, and my dad strode past him. Susan, Betty's mom, followed on his heels. Her hair—Impossible! She was Goth. She'd dyed her hair black. It was a tangled mess with vivid green streaks interwoven throughout. Her black, hooker-style dress was wrinkled. Lines of anger and tension bracketed her fake green eyelashes and around her mouth.

My dad looked just as disheveled. His shirt untucked, and he wore brown house loafers.

"Are you okay?" he asked me, his voice deep with concern.

The concern surprised me a little. Last time I'd seen him, he'd been pissed at me. "I'm fine."

"Thank God," he said, and breathed a sign of relief.

His footsteps thudded as he closed the rest of the distance between us. He curved a hand over my shoulder and squeezed. "They called me, and…" A shudder worked through him. "I haven't stopped worrying since."

Susan crossed her arms over her chest and glared down at Betty. "How could you do this? Tell me how you could blithely break the law, deface someone else's property, then lie about being trapped in some stupid game."

Remaining silent, Betty turned away from her.

"Do you realize what a bad influence you are to your sister? She looks up to you."

"I never lied," Betty said softly.

Susan laughed bitterly, a perfect mimic of Betty's laughter earlier. "I'm not stupid, but I am fed up." She turned to my dad; their eyes met for the briefest of seconds. "This behavior ends now."

My breath snagged hot and shallow in my throat. It was the same kind of "look" Linnie and Robb had shared the day before I entered the game—or had years passed? It felt like an eternity had inched by unnoticed. Only this look was more heated, more intense, and filled with longing.

I wanted to deny it, to pretend I hadn't seen it.

"I'm sorry, Blake," Susan said. "My daughter got yours involved in this, and that's unforgivable. Betty has always been trouble, but to bring your innocent little girl down with her…"

Betty's mouth fell open. "What?"

I blinked in shock. "Yeah. What?"

"I'm sorry too," my dad replied, ignoring us, concentrating only on Susan. "I thought they hated each other, and I always regretted that fact. Until now. I think I'd prefer hatred to"—his hand swept over us—"this."

"I'll punish her," Susan assured him. "Betty _will _regret this."

They were casting all the blame on Betty; they saw me as the innocent. Inconceivable!

"Do you not love me anymore?" Betty asked softly. She faced her mom, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"I love you," Susan said, her features crumbling. She took a step toward Betty, then stopped herself. She straightened her shoulders and squared her chin. "I love you, but I cannot tolerate your behavior anymore."

Betty pounded a fist against the table surface, and the force of it vibrated all the way to me. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"You broke into a building and dragged poor Cindy with you."

"Well," I began. I wasn't going to pretend to be guiltless in this. I'd own up to my part in it. "Betty didn't drag me along. I asked her to pick me up and…"

"Hush, Cindy," my dad said. "Betty picked _you _up. _She _drove to the building. We all know who's at fault here."

"Yes." Looking utterly exhausted, "Susan scrubbed a hand down her face, smearing her mascara. "Don't try to defend her."

"Dad, do you not remember the way I ran out of the house? Do you not remember how I disobeyed your orders to stay home?"

Betty wiped angrily at her tears, sweeping them away. Her chin lifted defiantly, and for a moment she resembled her mom. "All you care about anymore is _him._" "Him," apparently, was my dad. She spat the word and glared. "You kicked Daddy out for him. You destroyed my life for him. All I did was break into a stupid building—and I had a good reason. You broke Daddy's heart. You broke my heart. All because you're the most selfish person in the world."

With Betty's words, the small, airless box I'd encountered earlier closed around me gain, suffocating me. "Dad?" I managed to push the word past my constricted throat.

He coughed. "We'll talk about it later, Cindy."

I stared up at him, at his guilty expression, and I knew, _knew_, he and Susan were more than friends. "How long?" I gritted out.

Silence. Heave, gut-wrenching silence.

"How long!" In a perfect mimic of Betty, I banged my fist into the table.

"Years." Betty spoke to me, but glared at her mom. "Two years."

_Two years. _And I hadn't known. Hadn't suspected. He'd hid Susan from me like a dirty little secret. "We'll always be honest with each other," he'd told me once. Yeah. Sure. What that meant was that I needed to spill all my secrets while he kept his safely tucked away.

I'd never felt so betrayed.

"Cindy," he began.

"No," I said, choking back my anger, my tears. "Don't." I wish I could delude myself and pretend this was just part of the game. It wasn't. Betty had known before the game and, like me, her mind hadn't been altered. She had the same memories she'd had before.

"Okay, folks." The policeman scratched the side of his face and adjusted his belt; he appeared uncomfortable listening to our family squabble. "Let's wrap this up."

Susan sighed heavily. "I'm sorry you found out this way, Cindy."

"Can we go now?" I asked the officer, ignoring her. I didn't glance in my dad's direction, either.

"Yes."

My dad gently gripped my upper arm and helped me to my feet. "I'll take you home honey. Susan," he added with a nod. He paused. "I'll call you in the morning."

She nodded in return and looked away guiltily.

I was tugged from the room, but my gaze remained locked on Susan the entire time as questions raced through my mind. Had she "dated" my dad before my mom's death?

Had my mom known?

Neither my dad nor I spoke a word as we strode out of the station and our car. He keyed the engine. Puffs of cool air leaked from the vents, and a golden oldie rocked softly from the speakers.

"Susan and I…" he began.

"Don't," I said, stopping him. I was too frayed, too raw. "Just don't." I stared out the window, at the stars winking in the black sky.

"I have to."

"No. You 'had to' years ago. Now it's too late."

"I didn't know how to tell you. You were so close to your mom and devastated by her death."

My hands fisted on my pants, twisting the material. I didn't want to hear this. "And you weren't? I remember the way you cried for her. Was that a lie?"

He leaned his forehand against the wheel. "I didn't want you to think I was replacing her. I would never have…"

I squeezed my eyelids tightly closed and blocked out his voice. You know what's funny in a horrible, twisted way? Dr. Laroque and Ms. Hamilton thought they'd have to put me inside a VR game to take away my identity, to teach me a lesson, and make me appreciate the life I used to have.

They didn't have to.

All they would have to do was tell me about my dad and Betty's mom.

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**Wow, I know, crazy chapter. Poor Cindy, huh?**

**Well, romance is on its way for Cindy! So you better stay tuned!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	30. Chapter 34

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget.

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: _Gena Showalter._

**Oh god, I almost forgot about this story.**

**No time to waste, LET'S GET UPDATING!**

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"**Oh My Goth!"**

_**Boys are from Mars.**_

"Breakfast is ready," my dad called, his voice seeping past my closed bedroom door.

Eyes squeezed tightly shut, I groaned and rolled over in my bed. Sunlight shoved past my curtains, bright, unwelcome, and unwanted. "Go away," I croaked. "Want to sleep more."

"Up and at em."

"Noooo."

"Yes."

I'd tossed and turned all night and finally cried myself to sleep. Now my eyelids felt heavy, my eyes burned, and my chest ached. Maybe if I slept for an eternity, I'd wake up rested.

"Get up, Cindy, before I throw ice water in your face."

He'd do it too; he'd done it before. I slammed a fist into the soft pillow and eased up, blinking open my tired eyes. My mouth stretched wide in a yawn, and I arched my spine. My hair tumbled down my back, tickling.

"You getting up?" he demanded.

I tossed my pillow at the door.

He chuckled, and the sound of his amusement had me gritting my teeth. No one should be so happy in the morning—especially him. Not after last night.

I hurried through a shower, then stood in my closet, staring at the sea of black clothes. Whatever I wore, I'd look exactly like a thousand other people.

Sighing, I dragged out a pair of tight black pants. I anchored a thick, glittery silver belt around my waist. If I'd owned a white dress, I would have worn it. Instead I ended up wearing a black puff-sleeved top with silver veins running through it. I brushed my hair and left it hanging down my back.

At the kitchen table, my dad was shoveling two plates high with eggs, bacon, and toast. He spotted me and smiled. "You look pretty."

_Don't smile at me, _I almost snapped. "I look exhausted."

Slowly his grin faded. He slid a plate in front of me, set one at his side of the table, and eased into his chair. "Listen, about yesterday…"

"Forget it." I spooned a bite of too-salted eggs into my mouth.

"I should have told you about Susan. I admit that. I was wrong. But I want you to like her. Cindy. I—I love her."

I swallowed, the eggs dropping like lead in my stomach.

"You'll understand one day," he continued. "Love isn't something you can fight or control. It just happens, and you're helpless."

Stop, I almost shouted. "Were you…dating her before mom died?"

"No," he said firmly.

I pushed my eggs with my fork, scooting them from one side of the plate to the other. "Why keep her a secret then? If you love her like you say, why hide her from your only child?"

"I didn't think you were ready to accept another woman in my life."

"You didn't give me a chance, did you?"

His cheeks colored slightly. Score one for me. Too bad it was a bittersweet victory and didn't make me any happier. "Look," I said, standing, "I've got to go."

He stood, too. "I'll drive you."

"No thanks. I'll walk."

Since I'd left my bad and books and school, I had nothing to carry. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and, without another word, strolled outside. Just as I stepped onto the porch and a breeze of cool, fragrant air caressed me, a hearse pulled into the driveway. I blinked in surprise, not knowing what to expect.

Nick unfolded from the driver's seat, Avery from the passenger's side. So not their usual car. She grinned and waved me over. "I tried to call and e-mail—again—but you haven't responded. Anyway, I heard you walked to school yesterday and didn't want you to have to do it again. Come on, let's go!"

Behind me, my dad's footsteps echoed. "I want to drive you, sweetie, so we can continue our talk."

I didn't turn around, didn't respond in any way. Dread swimming through me, I raced to the hearse and jumped into the back. I cast a glance toward the porch. My dad was frowning, his eyes a little sad. Car keys dangled from his fingers.

My throat constricted. "Drive," I commanded Nick.

The car sped into motion and soon (thankfully) my dad was out of view entirely. When he'd said that he loved Susan, I'd felt the words cut me all the way to the bone. The woman had replaced my mom in his heart. How unfair. And wrong. She wasn't good enough for him!

"Why haven't you answered your Sidekick?" Avery asked me.

I bit my lip and shrugged. "I lost it?" The words emerged as more as question and then a statement.

"Oh," she said, disappointed.

"So, Cindy," Nick said, breaking into my thoughts, "I heard you were hanging out with Betty Quinlan last night. What's that about? First you defend her in class, and then you willingly spend time with her."

"Yeah." Avery smoothed back her hair and anchored the dark, dyed strands in a twisted ponytail. "She's such a loser. Aren't you afraid you'll be tainted by her?"

How could I respond to that? What could I say that wouldn't have them asking me ten million other questions?

"Well?" Avery prompted. "You haven't been yourself lately. What's going on with you?"

"What, are you guys my parents now and I have to explain myself to you?"

"No." Nick waggled his eyebrows. "But I'd be your daddy if you asked me real nice."

Avery snorted and slapped him in the arm. "You're such a perv." She turned back to me. "She called me yesterday, you know, and said we were best friends and you were a fake." Avery made a gagging noise. "As if."

"She called you?" I asked, and Avery nodded.

"I think she's on serious drugs," Nick said.

"I heard her dad shacked up with a senior from Capital Hill. How gross is that?"

Nick shrugged. "Her mom is fiiine, though. Smokin'. I'd tap her, no doubt about it."

Avery slapped his arm again. "You want to tap every ass you see."

"Ow! Nothing wrong with looking. Cindy knows I would never touch."

Again, Avery snorted.

I watched the exchange with fascination. They were relaxed, completely at ease, and made sure to include me by casting me conspiratorial glances. I found it was oddly comforting. And realized I was comforted by Nick and Avery made me feel guilty, like I was betraying Erica, Linnie, and Robb. I sighed. Would I never feel sane and unconflicted again?

"Looks like John Hodges wants to race me," Nick said. He hit the gas and we revved into high speed.

Breath caught in my throat, and my heart thumped like a rock band's drums. "Slow down!" We were close to the school and kids were on the sidewalks.

Nick laughed. "I own, man, I own! He'll never catch us. I've got mad skills behind the wheel."

"Slow down," I said, with more force this time. I squeezed my eyes closed so I wouldn't have to see the trees and people whizzing past us.

When we reached the school, Nick slowed down (thank God!) and parked as close to the front door as possible—actually taking a handicapped space, which was widely known as "Nick's spot." No one dared chastise him for fear he'd beat the crap out of them. Even Ms. Hamilton let him park there, the hypocrite.

Why wasn't _he _being taught a lesson?

"We seriously need to teach that Barbie freak a lesson," Avery said.

Hearing her mirror my own thoughts gave me a pause. "Just leave her alone," I said. But there was a sweet kind of justice in the thought of Avery going after Betty. The problem was, both Betty and I were in the process of learning Dr. Laroque and Ms. Hamilton's miserable lesson. We didn't need instructing from anyone.

Avery shrugged and hefted her black velvet bag onto her shoulder. She emerged from the car, a fairy goddess bestowing her presence on her subjects. She looked amazing today. She had bleached several stripes of her hair white so they made a startling contrast against the black locks. She wore a frayed mini and multicolored suspenders that mimicked wings.

I would have loved the outfit on anyone else.

Uttering another sigh, I stepped outside and into the bright, slightly cool morning. My legs were a little shaky. Nick raced off to gloat over John. Goth kids were everywhere. Some loitered in the yard, talking, some entered the building, ready to start their days.

Welcome to hell, I thought.

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**Okay, that's it for today since my hands kill really badly. Anyways, the next few chapters are going to concentrate on Jimmy and Cindy's relationship! YAY! FINALLY! So stay tuned everyone and keep on reviewing so I can update even faster!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	31. Chapter 35

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget.

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: _Gena Showalter._

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**You guys are amazing. Honestly! I have flipping 322 reviews! Thank you SO much!**

**Darkbunny – I know! I felt so bad that I forgot! Anyways, thanks!**

**Midnight – Oh wow, thank you so much.**

**Anime – Haha, just don't puke on me! I know, I feel so bad for Cindy too. Individuality is what makes you, you and if anyone would try to take that away from _me_, then I would probably puke haha.**

**Msdark – Haha, I know! Thanks!**

**Philip – Ha, thanks. I know I made some typos! I was so mad but I'm too lazy to fix them. Oh well.**

**Snowboarder9 – Thanks! I will.**

**Blackmonday – Haha, I know right? Oh well, it will get better for them, trust me.**

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**Acosta – Haha, even in the series you could tell that he was going to be a perv when he grew up haha. Thanks again!**

**Once again, THANK YOU SO FREAKING MUCH! Okay, onwards!**

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"**Oh My Goth!"**

Ms. Hamilton didn't show up that day. In fact, the vice principal announced Hammy was sick and wouldn't be retuning for a while. I knew the diabolical woman wasn't sick (except in the head). She was simply too much of a coward to face me and Betty.

Silver lining: class elections were pushed back until her return. At least I wouldn't have to deal with life as president. Another silver lining: Avery and the others weren't all that bad. Every time they saw me in the halls, they squealed happily. They seemed to really enjoy talking to me; they listened to me. They _included _me.

I'd hated that very thing yesterday. For some reason, it didn't bother me today. Maybe the shock of the reality switch had worn off. I don't know. I'd just, well, I'd been picked on for so long, it was nice to be accepted for a change—even though I knew, deep down, it was wrong.

When school let out, I didn't even mind when Avery air kissed my good-bye. I used to gag when she and Betty did that, but stupid me, I kind of liked it when _I _was involved. "Are you going to the Coffin Club meeting?"

I wrinkled my nose. What was the Coffin Club? Wait, maybe I didn't want to know. "No."

"Oh." She sighed in disappointment. "Do you want a ride home?"

A group of boys on skateboards flew past us. "Nah," I said. "I'll be fine."

"See you tomorrow then," she said. "Call me later, 'k? Love ya."

"Love…ya," I returned, frowning. I didn't even say that to Erica and Linnie. Not that they said it to me.

Pensive, I kicked into motion and headed toward my locker. I rounded the corner, only to see Jimmy scowling and pointing a finger in a pale, shaking boy's face. "You don't yell at girls. Do you understand me?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

"What's going on?" I asked, looking around at the growing crowd.

Jimmy spun around, facing me. The boy used the distraction to his advantage and raced away. "I didn't like the way he was treating his girlfriend, that's all." His eyes were bright with fury. He walked toward me without another word and reached into his pocket. When he passed me, he didn't pause, didn't slow, just withdrew his hand, jabbed a note into mine, and kept walking.

I stopped, staring down at it in confusion. After unfolding it (with shaky hands), I read: Meet me at the football field.

Meet him. _Me. _I nearly kissed the paper before I stuffed it into my pocket. Why? I wondered. What did he want? Eager, I didn't waste time gathering my books—why bother with homework when this wasn't the real world—I skipped to the field and leaned against the black-and-red concession stand wall. There weren't many boys practicing because football was no longer fright.

No sign of Jimmy yet.

Several minutes passed, but he didn't arrive. Where was he? Maybe he was playing a joke on me and wasn't going to show up. I felt the color drain from my face. I would not wait around for that. I stepped toward the field, meaning to walk home, when I spied Betty, Erica, and Linnie ambling onto the sidelines. I froze in place.

Erica and Linnie were wearing short shorts and sports bras, and began jumping up and down and yelling, "Go team!" Betty was instructing them on…cheerleading? Seriously?

"Keep your legs straight." Pause. "Good. Perfect."

They are up her every word as if she were giving them instructions on how to cheat on their SAT exams without getting caught.

_Way _too weird.

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**Dang, it's like almost midnight, I'll have to update the rest tomorrow. Thanks again!**

**Review!**

**Ashley**


	32. Chapter 36

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget.

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: _Gena Showalter._

* * *

**You guys are amazing. Once again thanks for all the wonderful reviews.**

**Okay, onwards! No time to waste!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

Hidden as I was by the thick walls, they hadn't noticed me yet. I blatantly watched and listened. And yes, I was jealous about the easy camaraderie they shared. That should be _me _instructing them. Not that I knew anything about cheerleading. Not that I ever planned to learn. Still.

"Your wrists are broken," Betty said. "You have to keep your arms straight. Like this." She held her arms over her head in a V. "See?"

Both girls nodded and mimicked the action.

"Good," she praised. "You've got it." With barely a breath, she asked, "So, where's Stilts—I mean, that tall boy? The one who's always hanging around with you? Robin? I thought he'd be here, watching."

Linnie rolled her eyes and dropped her arms to her side. "You know his name. You know our names, too, and I wish to God you'd stop pretending you don't. The joke is getting old."

"_Robb _is at home," Erica said, flopping down on the green grass. Sweat glistened on her pale skin. "He thinks you hate him."

A look of guilt flashed over Betty's face. "Just call him and tell him I'm sorry for yelling at him, all right? I'm just, well, I don't want to date anyone right now."

"You're breaking up with him?" Linnie asked. There was no anger in her tone. She glanced down at her shoes and kicked a rock. "For real?"

"We never really dated," Betty said, exasperated. "Forget I brought him up. I don't want to talk about him anymore. We need to buy you guys Sidekicks. That way, you can call, e-mail, and text me with the latest gossip. Aver—never mind. Just plan on buying one soon, okay?"

"No way. That's so conformist. I hear that Goth clones use those." Erica rolled to her side and stared over at Betty. "Hey shouldn't you be at home? You're grounded."

"Like my mom can really force me to stay home if I don't want to be there."

Linnie smoothed her hand over her short brown bob. "What with you hanging out with Cindy, anyway? I thought you hated her as much as we do. She's…"

"Hey," Jimmy said.

Yelping, I whipped around to face him. "Jimmy," I said, a hint of guilt in my voice. Caught spying. How embarrassing. Had the girls heard me?

He laughed, his blue eyes twinkling. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Thanks for waiting for me."

"No problem." He hadn't meant to play a joke on me! Heart slowing down, I turned back toward the wall and peeked at the football field. My shoulders slumped. The girls were gone. Crap. I'd wanted to hear Betty's response. Sighing, I swung back to Jimmy.

"I got held up by Mr. Suneson," he continued. "He said he'd heard you and I were friends and asked if I knew why you'd ditched his class yesterday."

Tensing, I crossed my arms over my middle. Sunlight poured over Jimmy's face, making his dark hair appear spun with gold. His eyes gleamed like twin blue sapphires. "What'd you tell him?" I asked.

"That I didn't know." He winked at me. "Which is the truth."

"Thank you." I relaxed. With everything that had gone wrong lately, I hadn't wanted to add Mr. Suneson to the mix. That was a torture better suited to, well, never. "So what did you want to see me about?" I bit my lip. "Your note didn't say."

Jimmy's amusement slowly faded and he regarded me intently. "I just wanted to ask if you were okay. After lunch yesterday…"

I forced myself to laugh and wave away his concern. "Just a bad day. I'm better now. Really." How could one boy be so cute? He was wearing jeans and a gray t-shirt, untucked. His hair was messy, a little wavy, and his eyelashes were so long they cast shadows over his cheeks.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he said, leaning toward me.

A cool breeze danced between us, wafting my hair over my face. Staring up and into his eyes, I brushed the strands aside. "Yes." I nearly cringed at how breathless I sounded.

"The real reason I asked you to meet me was so I could ask you to go to Nick's party with me."

I gulped. Ohmygod. He was asking me out on a date. A go-somewhere-together date. "I—I don't know," I found myself saying, a wave of nervousness sweeping through me. Damn it, I'd meant to say yes.

I'd never been on a date before. What if I made a fool of myself? What if I got food stuck in my teeth or walked out of the bathroom with toilet paper on my shoe?

"Would you say yes if I asked you to meet me there?" he asked, determined.

I gulped again, but this time I nodded.

Slowly his lips inched into a smile. "Then I'll see you there."

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**Woo for Cindy, huh? I told you things would get a heck of a lot better for her! Just keep reading, and I'll keep on updating!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	33. Chapter 37

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget.

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: _Gena Showalter._

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**I haven't updated in so long! I'm so sorry!**

**I'll review back next time, because there's no time to waste.**

**HERE WE GO!**

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"**Oh My Goth!"**

Saturday night arrived all too soon and not soon enough. Which meant it was time to leave for Nick's party. Which meant I would soon see Jimmy.

Why had I agreed to go? I wondered nervously, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My tight, vinyl dress fit perfectly, the hem a few inches above my knees. I'd dug out my knee-high boots and they hugged the length of my calves.

"I look like a dominatrix," I muttered. No way was I going to change, however. I'd spent all of Friday evening and all of today rummaging through my closet, generally driving myself insane. Picking this outfit had nearly killed me, and I wasn't going to relive the process for something different.

My hair flowed down my back, the blue highlights the only color I wore (besides black, that is). I had tied black ribbons up my arms, and sprinkled dark glitter over my skin.

_Honk. Honk. Hooonk._

Oh God. My ride was here. My palms began to sweat and my heart kicked into overdrive. I was suddenly glad I hadn't agreed to let Jimmy pick me up. Already I wanted to throw up and he wasn't even in the vicinity.

"Cindy," my dad called. "Taylor is waiting."

"I'm coming," I told him. MY gaze roved over my reflection one last time. This was my last chance to add a necklace or touch up my makeup. Maybe I should add more gloss to my lips. Maybe I should wear my strappy heels instead of boots.

_Hooooonk._

"Cindy."

"Coming! Jeez." Deciding to do nothing more, I grabbed my velvet handbag and dashed out of my room. My dad was waiting by the front door, holding it open. I kissed him goodbye.

"Be careful," he said. "Betty isn't going to be at the party, is she?"

"Dad. Please." Without another word, I raced to Taylor Bale's red Sentra and scooted inside. Taylor was—or had been—one of Betty's best friends. She'd never called me a freak, not to my face at least, but she'd never spoken a word in my favor, either. The main target of _her _evil had been Robb.

"Hey, Taylor." There it was again—guilt for socializing with and actually enjoying) my true friends' enemies. "Thanks for picking me up."

"What are you calling me Taylor for? You always call me Cheesy."

My face scrunched in confusion. "Why do I call you that?"

"Uh, hello, because I'm always smiling. You're the one who game me the name."

O-kay. Hadn't known that.

The car sped into motion. "Daaamn, girl," Taylor—uh, Cheesy—said when we were soaring down the highway. "You look wicked hot."

"Thanks." She looked great, too. Her dark hair was twisted in ropes on top of her head and she wore a tight black bodysuit. If this were real life—_Stop, don't think like that. It's not. Your real friends don't want to hang with you._

I hated to admit this, but the Barbies-now-Goths grew on me with every minute that passed. Like a virus. Or a fungus. With every smile they gave me, every sweet thing they did for me—like pick me up so I wouldn't have to drive—I forgot the way they used to treat me and my friends.

A week ago, I would have sworn to God that I'd never speak to any member of the Barbie clan, never hang with them. Never forgive them. Now look at me. At this rate, I was going to have to start reminding myself that I preferred individuality over popularity.

"I missed you at the Coffin Club meeting," she said. "Why'd you skip?"

Okay, I really had to ask. "What exactly is the Coffin Club?"

"Duh. Like you don't know. We get together one day a week and talk about death, that kind of thing. This week's meeting really sucked without you. We ended up leaving early without planning our funerals or anything."

"Sorry," I said, and made a mental note not to attend next week's meeting, either. Death was Linnie's thing, not mine.

"This is going to be _the _party, isn't it?" Cheesy said. "Frightalicious. Better than Nick's homecoming party last year. Do you remember that or were you crazy tanked like me?" She didn't give me time to answer, not that I had one. "I hear that new boy, Jimmy, is going to be here, and he is so hot. Mysterious, you know? He doesn't belong to a single clique—that I know of. Maybe he thinks he's too good for all of us.

Hearing Jimmy's name made me nervous again. "Maybe he likes everyone."

She shrugged, as if that wasn't even an option. "I've thought about asking him out, but I don't want to seem too easy. Be easy, yes. Seem it, no." She laughed, carefree. Unconcerned. "What would you do? Ask him out? I bet you would. You're, like, the bravest girl in the known universe."

Me? Brave? I wish. I didn't feel brave at the moment. I could actually throw up.

"So would you do it?" she continued. "Ask him out, I mean?"

"Well," I said reluctantly, "_he _kind of asked _me _out."

Her mouth flailed open. "Really? What'd you say? You said yes, didn't you? I can tell you're crushing on him, but what about Nick? He's your boyfriend, and the two of you have been dating for, like, ever."

"Hardly." I had absolutely no interest in Nick anymore. He was nice enough (when he wasn't telling people we were sleeping together), definitely cute enough, but the sense of must-have I'd once experienced every time I looked at him was gone.

"Ohmygod, did you two break up? You did, didn't you? Let me guess. You heard about the slut he nailed from Moore a few weeks ago. Well, good riddance. I bet he's tainted now with a thousand diseases."

No, I hadn't heard. Had Betty? Wait. Were he and Betty even dating before we entered the game or had they broken up? I'd lost track. Still. I massaged my temples, trying to ward off the oncoming ache. Betty wasn't my friend, but even she deserved better than a cheating boyfriend.

"So would it, like, be okay if _I _talked to Nick?" Cheesy asked. "I won't if you don't want me to, so you can tell me the truth. I don't want to poach on your property, but he is sooo hot."

Okay. Seriously. Did the girl change love interests as often as she changed underwear? "Be my guest. He's all yours."

A grin spread across her entire face. "_Very_ fright."

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**Ow, my hands. Haha, anyways, thanks so much for the reviews! I have so many now! **

**So, just read and review and tell me what you think. I'll have one up tomorrow definitely. **

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	34. Chapter 38

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget.

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: _Gena Showalter._

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**Hey guys, sorry for the long update! I lost track of time. SO MANY PROJECTS THIS WEEK! **

**Dancing – Aw thanks so much!**

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**Cutie5 – Aw thanks!**

**Black – Ha, yup! Stay tuned though, it gets even more complicated.**

**Midnight – Wow, that made me laugh. CRUNK? Dang, maybe. Haha, thanks.**

**XxDoCxX – Haha, me too mann. I think I would do the same thing. Thanks!**

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**Okay, ONWARDS!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

We arrived at the party fashionably late. Music blared from the house and kids tumbled from doors and windows (spilling beer and laughing) as they rolled around on the perfectly manicured lawn. I guess there'd already been some wicked crazy hookups because a few of them were making out. Asian Goth was sucking on former footballer Matt Henassey's neck. And—was that a band geek feeling up a former cheerleader on top of a cherry red Mustang?

Were Nick's parties always like this? I'd secretly wondered what happened when the "cool" kids got together. I'd expected gossiping and laughing, not this…wildness. Wanting to see everything at once, I wove my way through the crowd. Cheesy chatted continuously at my side.

"Look, Cindy's here," I heard someone say.

"Hi, Cindy."

"Can I get you a drink, Cindy? Beer? Mixed?"

"No thanks." I didn't mind drinking but I already felt out of control, and I didn't need alcohol to make it worse. No telling what I'd blurt out. I stepped inside the house, which proved to be more cramped than the yard. The living room furniture was crammed with Goths. I don't think I'd ever seen so many black halter tops, short pleated skirts, or piercings.

There was a group of kids sitting around the coffee table, playing with a Ouija board. They were the very people who used to call me "evil" for doing the same. They motioned me to join them, but I shook my head.

The music was loud. So loud, in fact, my ears rang and a slight vibration glided down my spine. People were dancing wildly in every direction, heads shaking, hair flying. I'd never seen my classmates so undisciplined. People ran back and forth through the different rooms, playing tag. A beach ball was being slapped through the air

"Cindy," a delicious voice said in my ear.

I whipped around. My heart skipped a beat and my knees gave a little shake. "Hey." I had to shout to be heard over the music.

Jimmy motioned to the back door with a tilt of his chin. I bit my lip and nodded. Grinning, he clasped my hand and rugged me through the house.

Even though Jimmy wore jeans and a white T-shirt, even though his hair wasn't dyed and he wore no face paint, no one called him a freak. Why was that? Were they afraid of him? He _did _look fierce and strong and ready to kick ass.

He led me into the backyard and my nervousness increased with every step. What were we going to talk about? What if I sounded dumb? Though it wasn't even close to Christmas, lights hung and glittered around the breathtaking white gazebo. Lush green leaves twined the crisscrossed wood.

"This is better," he said, facing me. He leaned against the wood, seeming relaxed and at ease. "We can hear each other now."

I plucked a dewy leaf from one of the slats. "So…" I said. I cleared my throat. _You weren't nervous that day in the parking lot, _I told myself. _Why are you nervous now? _"What have you been up to this weekend?"

He shrugged. "Cars, computers, and aggravating my uncle. The usual, I guess. What about you?"

Soooo not the usual. "Aggravating my dad, I guess."

His mouth lifted into that smile I was coming to love and his blue eyes twinkled. "I'm glad you came tonight."

"Me too." Did I sound as lame to him as I did to myself? "Listen, I meant to apologize to you yesterday but got distracted. I truly am sorry about ditching you for lunch the other day. Did you get to eat before you went back to school?"

He nodded. "I grabbed a hamburger."

"Good." I ran my bottom lip between my teeth. "Did you get in trouble with your uncle for not bringing me back?"

"Not too much." A long pause slithered between us. Then, "I, uh, think we should try again soon."

My forehead wrinkled in confusion as I replayed our conversation in my mind and came up blank. "Try what?"

He coughed and looked way, past me, past the yard. "To eat. Together. On a date. Where I actually pick you up."

Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. "I would like that," I said. Very much. I wouldn't let my nerves stop me this time. Cheesy thought I was brave. It was time I acted that way.

Jimmy's entire body relaxed (I hadn't realized he'd stiffened), and he grinned. "We'll actually eat this time, right?"

I laughed, surprised by how calm I suddenly felt. "Yes, we'll eat. I promise." My laugh slowly tapered to quiet, though, as I realized I'd have to stay in this fake reality to keep my promise. If I went back to my real reality, he might not remember that he'd asked me out. He might even think he'd asked Betty out, since everyone had confused our actions after the switch.

"What's wrong?" he asked me. He stepped toward me.

"Nothing," I said, unsure in that moment whether I wanted to return to the other reality—or stay in this one for a while longer. A lot longer.

"Maybe we could see a movie, too," he suggested. "What kind of movies do you like? Wait. Here's a better question. What's your favorite movie of all time?"

My cheeks burned bright with a blush. God, I hated when people asked me this. "_Romancing the Stone_," I admitted. I could have lied, but didn't think I should have to.

His eyes widened. "No way. You're kidding me, right?"

I felt my blush spread to my neck and collarbone. "No."

"I never would have pegged you for the type."

My back straightened and my shoulders squared. "What did you think my type was?"

"Not…romance-y. _Underworld _maybe."

What was that supposed to mean? "Well, what about you? What's _your _favorite movie of all time?"

"_Hackers_," he said without hesitation. "A boy is arrested for writing a virus and…" He stopped himself. "Sorry. I know it's old but I've seen it, like, a thousand times."

"I would have pegged you for the _Terminator _type."

His lips twitched. "Then we were both wrong."

"In a good way?" I couldn't help but ask.

"In a good way," he said with a nod. "So what do you do in your free time? Besides pulling the strings of your puppets, that is."

"I do _not _have any puppets." I laughed, because I knew I lied. I still felt a little guilty about it, but I liked that more and more each day.

When my gaze again met Jimmy's, my laughter died a quick death. His gaze had become intense. I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. "What are you thinking about?" My voice was breathless.

"You're pretty when you smile." He stepped closer to me. "I'm thinking about kissing you."

I blinked. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. My mouth went dry, but I raised my chin. Yes! This was it! I wasn't afraid. I wanted to kiss him. _So _badly.

Slowly, he inched his face down. His breath fanned my cheek. My eyelids began to close. Any second his mouth would brush mine. His tongue would—

The back door slid open. Avery and Cheesy tumbled out, giggling. Jimmy and I froze in place, startled, then jumped apart. "Cindy, you naughty thing," Avery said. She and Cheesy tumbled over me. "We've been looking everywhere for you. Tommy Barrett is doing a striptease on the kitchen table. You _have_ to see."

"I nearly _died _laughing." Cheesy giggled. "I think Nick is going to dance, too."

"I think I'll stay out here," I told them, flicking Jimmy a glance. He'd backed away from me and had his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Avery's mouth dipped into a pout. Cheesy lost her grin (for once). "But…"

"It's okay," Jimmy said. He backed off another step. "I've got to go anyway."

Now _I _found myself frowning. "But…" I said in a perfect mimic of Cheesy. I'd come here to see him and I wasn't ready for him to leave.

"See you around, Cindy." Without another word, he strode away.

Puzzled, I watched him. Why had he taken off so fast? What had changed his easy mood? I wasn't given time to think about the oddity of it. Avery grabbed my hand and tugged me inside the house.

"What kind of friend would I be if I let you miss all the fun?" she said. "Come on."

I could have protested, but didn't. _Fun._ How long had it been since I'd had any? Surely an eternity had passed. The prospect was tempting. _Heady._

* * *

**Ow, my freaking HANDS GUYS! Haha, anyways, it's about time Cindy got some almost-action with Jimmy, huh?**

**Ha, read and review please!**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


	35. Chapter 39

"**Oh My Goth!"**

**By: Ashley/retroville9**

**Summary: **Cindy Vortex is a nonconformist who values individuality above all else. She has a small group of like-minded Goth friends who wear black, dabble in the dark arts, and thrive outside the norm. They're considered the "freaks" of their high school. But when Cindy's smart mouth lands her in trouble—again—her principal decides to teach her a lesson she'll never forget.

**Disclaimer: **This whole story is based off the book **"Oh My Goth" By**: _Gena Showalter._

* * *

**Woah, guys. I haven't updated in like, 1000 years. I'M SO SORRY! Well, I hope that everyone had an AWESOME Christmas and Happy New Years! **

**Well, no time to waste. ONWARDS!**

* * *

"**Oh My Goth!"**

Inside the house, someone thrust a beer at me and I grabbed it to keep it from falling to the floor. Avery and Cheesy laughingly toasted me. I sipped, but they both shook their head.

"Uh, uh, uh," Avery said. "Drink. You've got to loosen up if you want to have fun!"

Fun, I mused again. I gulped back half the bottle. Normally I didn't like the taste of beer, but found myself finishing the rest as we approached the kitchen table. I even drained another.

Amid cheers and whistles, several boys were, indeed, dancing on the table surface. "Take it off," a girl shouted with glee.

Nick swung his hips and reached behind his head. He tugged off his shirt, revealing a strong, tanned stomach. Girls screamed encouragement. His eyes met mine; he tossed the shirt at me. The material draped my head and a wave of dizziness hit me.

Laughing, I fought my way free. At that moment, I felt carefree, like I could do anything. Like nothing mattered. Not Jimmy's disappearance, not the virtual reality game. Not my friends. I spun the shirt over my head and tossed it back at Nick.

He jumped down, girls moaning in disappointment. He approached me, saying, "Let's dance."

I let him usher me into the living room, where kids still bumped and grinded. I only stumbled twice. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. My cheek meshed into his bare shoulder.

"You look _smokin'_ tonight," he said.

"Thanks." The word was slurred, even to my own ears. I frowned.

"I'm glad you came. We haven't gotten to spend enough time together lately."

At one time, I would have given both my kidneys (maybe even my liver) to be in this exact spot: Nick's arms. Now it just felt…wrong.

"Do you want to stay the night?" he asked huskily.

My frown deepened. "No. My dad expects me home." My dizzy gaze slid over the room, looking for an escape. Home sounded good just then. My eyes landed on the far window. I saw a blur of blond hair and…was that Betty? I stiffened. Yes, that's exactly who it was. She was crouched at the window, peering into the room. At _me. _Her eyes were dark with anger, yet her mouth was soft with sadness and her cheeks were streaked with tears.

A dark slash appeared beside her, claiming her attention. My chin tilted to the side, and I—my mouth fell open. Jimmy. Jimmy was with her, was speaking to her. He wiped away one of her tears. What were they doing out there? Together? They'd kissed once. What if they did again?

I jerked from Nick and leapt into motion.

"Hey," he called. "Where are you going?"

I pushed through the crowd, around furniture, fighting the dizziness in my head as I stormed outside. But by the time I got out there, they were gone.

My head pounded, my eyes burned. I moaned. My mouth felt as dry as cotton, and my stomach…dear Lord, my stomach. It churned and twisted and cramped.

"Coffee," I heard a girl mutter. "I need coffee."

I recognized Avery's voice. Confused, I forced myself to sit up. Rubbing my temples, I searched my surroundings. I was in my room, I realized, on my bed. Avery was beside me, and two other bodies were strewn out on my floor.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her.

"We drove you home, remember, and decided to crash here."

"Rather than crash on the road," Cheesy said, cringing. She sat up and closed her eyes. "Shit, my head. Where's the Tylenol?"

"I feel fine," Michelle said. She stretched arms over her head and bounded up with a grin.

"Why aren't you in pain?" I demanded.

She grinned. "Unlike you guys, I stopped after one beer."

"Bitch," Avery muttered.

Michelle chuckled, the sound deep and hardy. "You're just jealous."

How weird, I thought, to wake up with the Barbies in my room. Even weirder, they were here willingly and I didn't want to kick them out.

We took turns in the bathroom, and all three of them borrowed clothes from me. When we were dressed—which translated to hair pulled back in a ponytail, no makeup, and jeans and T-shirts—we piled into Michelle's car. My dad was at work, so I didn't have to worry about getting his permission.

At Avery's insistence, Michelle drove us to Starbucks. We were soon seated at a table, sucking back Caramel Macchiatos.

"Last night was fun," Cheesy said.

"Too fun," Avery replied, rubbing her temples.

"My head is still pounding." Several wisps of hair fell at my temples, and I tucked the strands behind my ear. "Remind me never to drink again."

"So what's the deal with you and Jimmy?" Avery asked. "You two looked freakishly cozy in my backyard."

"He asked her out," Cheesy answered for me. She sipped her coffee.

Talking about Jimmy reminded me of the party. Had I really seen him lurking at the window, with Betty of all people, or had that been a drunken dream? Deep down, I doubted it had been a dream. A girl could hope, though. I didn't know what I'd do if I found out they were friends—with benefits?

Eyes narrowing me, Michelle swirled a spoon in her half-empty cup. "Jimmy asked you out and this is the first we hear about it?"

"What about Nick?" Avery's tone was devoid of emotion, giving no hint to her thoughts.

My head hurt too much to try and soften my words. "I'm not interested in your brother, Avery. I'm sorry." I sipped at my drink, feeling a little stronger as the hot, sweet liquid slid into my stomach.

The corners of her lips turned down. "What about our plan? You were going to marry him, and we were going to be sisters."

"Plans change," I said, not knowing what else I _could _say.

Silence.

Then she sighed. "You guys would have ended up getting a divorce, anyway. You're on and off more times than that slut Wendy Benedict's panties."

"Cindy said it was okay if I made a play for Nick," Cheesy said.

Avery barely flicked her a glance. "So," she said to me. I could tell she was upset I wouldn't be dating her brother, more upset that Cheesy wanted him, but she was trying not to show it. "What did you tell Jimmy?"

"I said yes," I answered truthfully. I stared down at my cup, watching the caramel melt through the dark liquid. "I'm nervous about it," I admitted then. It was so natural, talking with them.

"Why?" Michelle drained the rest of her coffee. "You've been on thousands of dates."

I wish. "What do you do when you're out on a date? What do you talk about?"

Avery shrugged. "We talk about, well, me."

"Why don't you cast a spell or something?" Michelle lifted her knee and anchored it between her and the table. "You could cast a love spell. Or maybe a memory spell if you do something stupid."

"Spells aren't my thing," I said. "I don't know how to cast them."

"Oh. Hmmm. Well, you could get him drunk, then he'll have a good time no matter what you do or say."

"She could kiss him," Cheesy suggested. "That's what I do when there's an uncomfortable silence."

"That's because you're a lip slut." Avery retorted.

Cheesy gasped. "I am not."

"I bet you've kissed every boy at out school, Easy Cheesy, if not more. More than kissing and more than the boys at our school, that is."

"That is so false. _So _false."

As they argued back and forth, I grinned. They cared for one another, I could tell. Just like Avery and Nick, a brother and sister. These girls weren't related, but they still cared. There was a genuine affection in their eyes and their insults were teasing rather than biting. That was the same relationship I'd had with Erica and Linnie. I missed that.

Was that part of my life over _forever_?

I sighed, not wanting to think about that now. At least I had this group of friends. A group of friends it was becoming harder and harder to think of as fakes. "Come on, girls. Enough fighting. Let's go to the bookstore and forget all our troubles, if only for a little while."

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**Haha, that was fun chapter to write. I hope you all enjoy it, and I'm sorry for the late update once again.**

**Thanks,**

**Ashley**


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